I’ll never forget the explosive temper tantrum my oldest son, at 12 years old, had only a couple of months after I adopted him and his younger brother. I innocently thought we’d skip lunch in favor of a quick snack and an early dinner out on the road. He wasn’t happy with this decision, and the language barrier between us proved detrimental, with his still having trouble beginning to learn English. Without being able to quickly communicate my thoughts and intentions that might have reassured him, his deepest, most suppressed fears took a life of their own. It wasn’t until a desperate drive through at a nearby McDonald’s, where he began to devour the contents of the Happy Meal he firmly held on his lap, did he begin to calm down.
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