I Asked My Daughters to Watch Their Little Brother for 2 Hours – An Hour Later He Begged Me to Come Home

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Living with my daughters again was strange. They were adults now, but they fell back into teenage patterns almost immediately.

They slept until noon, left dishes piled in the sink, and spent hours scrolling through their phones while I juggled work, bills, and a grieving seven-year-old who still cried for his father at night.

I did not ask them for much. I did not charge them rent or demand they contribute to groceries. I just asked that they be kind and acknowledge the fact that their little brother existed.

But they did not.

Not really.

They were polite, sure. They said good morning. They occasionally asked him about school.

But there was no warmth or genuine interest. When Jacob tried to show them his drawings or tell them about his day, they smiled tightly and found excuses to leave the room.

It hurt. God, it hurt to watch my son try so hard to connect with his sisters, only to be met with indifference and ignorance.

“Why don’t Kyra and Mattie like me?” he asked me one night as I tucked him into bed.

My heart cracked.

“They do like you, sweetheart. They are just… going through a hard time right now.”

“Because of Dad?”

I kissed his forehead.

“Yeah, baby. Because of Dad. Their dad.

Not William.”Continue reading…