The first thing I did when my eight-year-old son was admitted for his life-or-death bone marrow transplant was check for furniture to barricade the door.
Movable objects sturdy enough to keep out any frantic staff should the worst-case scenario come to pass, should the need arise, to buy myself enough time to accompany him on his final journey.
The first thing he did when things went sideways was threaten to jump out the window.
The post Opinion: My Son May Have Been a School Shooter If Not for These Folks appeared first on The Daily Beast