I never told my son-in-law that I was the most feared Drill Sergeant in Marine history. He forced my pregnant daughter to scrub the floors while he played video games. “Miss a spot and you don’t eat,” he sneered. I couldn’t take it anymore. I kicked the power cord, shutting off his game. He jumped up, furious. “You crazy old fool!” Before he could blink, I had him pinned against the wall by his throat, feet dangling off the floor. “Listen closely, maggot,” I growled. “Boot camp starts now.”

He squirmed, his eyes blinking open. He reached out with a tiny hand and wrapped his fingers around my thumb. His grip was surprisingly strong.

I smiled—a genuine, soft smile that crinkled the corners of my eyes.

“You have good grip strength, little man,” I whispered. “That’s good. You’ll need that.”

Sarah walked in from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of coffee. She looked tired, but happy. Her skin was glowing. The shadows under her eyes were from a newborn, not from fear.

“Is he giving you trouble, Sergeant?” she teased, handing me a mug.

I looked up. “Negative. We’re just going over the rules of engagement.”

I looked back down at the baby.

“Rule number one,” I whispered to him. “Respect your mother. She is the strongest person you will ever know.”

The baby cooed.