Bella went first. My sister-in-law Melanie’s daughter, Bella, who was about the same age as my own kids and very obviously the Golden Child of the Miller dynasty. She handed Sharon a mug she’d decorated at school—a lumpy, glitter-encrusted thing that looked like it needed immediate hospitalization.

Sharon shrieked like she’d been handed the Holy Grail. She immediately swept Bella into her arms, cooing about her artistic genius, while my father-in-law, Lawrence, clapped like an animatronic grandfather programmed for enthusiasm.