When my ten-year-old son, Tommy, came home one afternoon with red eyes and a drooping posture, I knew something was wrong. He usually burst through the front door after school, his backpack swinging, already shouting about what game he and his best friend Andy had played during recess. That day, though, he just muttered a quiet “Hi, Mom,” and went straight to his room. At first, I thought maybe he’d had a rough day or a small argument. Kids fight and make up all the time. But that evening, when I went to call him for dinner, I found him sitting cross-legged on his bed, clutching his favorite action figure, his face tight with hurt. “Sweetheart,” I said gently, “is everything okay? You’ve been quiet.” He hesitated, then looked up, his voice trembling. “Andy doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” I frowned, sitting beside him. “What happened? Did you two have a fight?” He shook his head. “No. He just said his mom doesn’t want him to play with me. She told him I’m rude and that I talk back to adults.” My stomach dropped. “What? Who told him that?”…….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW