It started out as an ordinary afternoon. My son, Evan, was sitting at the kitchen table, swinging his legs and happily tearing open a bag of sour cream and onion chips—his favorite snack. He’d just come home from school, flushed with excitement about a new art project he’d made, and I was half-listening while rinsing dishes. Then, suddenly, he froze. “Mom,” he said in that curious tone only children have when they stumble upon something strange. “What’s this?” When I turned around, I saw him holding a small, bright blue disk between his fingers. It was no bigger than a...
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