“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I whisper to Matteo as we walk behind the kids. “I mean, I know they didn’t technically get in trouble, but still. Maybe we shouldn’t be rewarding this kind of behavior by taking them out for dinner?”
“We’re not rewarding anything, Emma. We’re feeding them. What do you want to do, let them starve?”
“Well, there’s food at home—” I cut myself off in horror when I process the words that I just uttered. God. When did I become such a mom?
“I guess you’re right,” I say. “But I still think we should have some sort of talk about it. Zach did hit someone after all. That’s not okay. What do you think we should do? Grounding? Taking away his technology privileges?”
Matteo hums non-committedly.
I think back to Zach’s apology. The way he’d stood in the princip
