My black coffee had long gone cold, but I sipped it anyway, weighed down by bills, unread emails, and a heavy quiet pressing on my chest. Then, my four-year-old son Nolan tugged my sleeve and whispered one word: “Milkshake?” That simple question cut through the chaos. I looked around, smiled, and said, “Yeah, buddy. Let’s go.” We drove to O’Malley’s...