I almost laughed.
Their best.
That phrase has been used as a shield for decades.
Their best when they forgot my birthday two years in a row.
Their best when they skipped Lucas’s kindergarten recital because Tyler wasn’t feeling well.
Their best when they paid Melissa’s down payment for her house but told me, “We don’t want to play favorites.”
I typed back, “If this is their best, I’d hate to see their worst.”
That’s when Dad called me.
“Felix,” he said the moment I answered, his voice tight. “You need to delete that post right now. Your mother’s upset.”
“Why is she upset?” I asked calmly. “Because people finally saw what it looks like when she plays favorites?”
“Watch your tone.”
There it was.
The phrase that always ended every argument when I was growing up.
It didn’t matter if I was right or if I was just asking for fairness.
