It was just after dinner, and the kitchen still smelled of spaghetti sauce and garlic bread. My eight-year-old son, Leo, sat at the table with his homework spread out in front of him. I was finishing up the dishes when I noticed a red mark on his math worksheet.“Leo, did you finish the assignment?” I asked. He hesitated, looking down. “Yeah, I did it all” he said quickly, flipping the paper over.Something felt off. I dried my hands and walked over. When I turned the page, I saw the answers—some were wrong, but worse, a few questions were left blank. I felt a wave of frustration rise in me. “Leo, are you sure you finished?” I pressed.His eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want you to be mad” he whispered.