Today I had a fight with my father before I left for work. I tried honesty, which didn't work, then discussion, which didn't work, and then he threatened to kick me out and said, "You should leave. Now."
I told him, "I have to go to work now. I have to teach people who are clearly more mature than my father."
He turned red and kicked a box, about as childishly as that sentence makes it sound.
After my last class, a mother handed a card to a little girl. "Here," she said, "this is for teacher Amanda." The little girl handed me a card, saying how much she loves having me as a teacher, hoping my mother gets better, and with twenty five dollars inside.
Twenty five dollars might not be quite the same as my father's unconditional love, but you'd be surprised at how adaptable I am.