I have a good friend with whom my family spends a lot of time. I would like to say it’s because our older daughters are in the same class and play a lot of sports together, or because her younger daughter and my son are nine months apart. But, pretty much, it’s because we both like beer.

My friend’s father is in his eighties and lives with her and her family. We call him Pops.

My eight year old son and Pops have a great relationship, despite the more than seven decades between them. They both tire easily, they are both hard of hearing and they both have heart problems. It’s kind of a match made in heaven.

It turns out, they both have eye problems too. Although I had never noticed, my son picked up on the fact that Pops’ right eye looks different from his left. Thank goodness the entire family is aware of my child’s blatant honesty, because he didn’t have any problem mentioning it.

And when Pops told my boy that he was blind in one eye, my son said, “Hey, Pops. Cover your good eye with one of your hands.” Pops obliged.

Then my son did what any good, supportive person would do to his blind friend.

He hid.

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