From the September 2015 issue

Raising a Good Guy

When I was super pregnant, my husband and I traveled to Chicago with our then-2-year-old son. We boarded one of the city’s streetcars to visit the aquarium and it was jam packed. As I stood in the aisle, hanging on to a strap dangling from the ceiling, my belly was practically bumping into a teenage boy who sat and tried hard to pretend I wasn’t there.
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