I’m Jacob, a widowed father of two—Cody and Casey.
A few days before Cody’s 13th birthday, I came home to the smell of cookies. He loved baking, just like his late mom, and I was proud. Even a neighbor wanted to buy some. But my mother, who was visiting, ruined the moment. “What kind of boy bakes?” she scoffed, calling him soft. Cody’s joy vanished.
The next day, while he was out, she threw away everything—his baking tools, all bought with saved allowance. He came home and broke down. When I confronted her, she said she was “saving him from becoming unnatural.” I told her to leave.
My stepfather called, angry. I didn’t budge. “I’m protecting my son,” I said.
That evening, I took Cody and Casey shopping. We replaced everything. His smile came back.
Some might think I overreacted. But I’d do it again. Because no one gets to dim my kid’s light.
