Touch My Child and You Die

The traffic on the highway is at a standstill, and my two-month-old son, Benjamin Wagner, is wailing with hunger. When I reach for the hypoallergenic formula I'd prepared, I find expired dog food instead. I begin scrambling for the formula, but my husband, Isaac Wagner, stops me. "I gave the formula to Nancy because her dog's been having stomach issues lately. Just find something else to feed Benjamin for now. Nancy's dog cost 30 thousand dollars, so it deserves the two-thousand-dollar formula. Benjamin is a boy—he needs to learn to tough it out." I yank my arm free from his grip and hiss, "Benjamin has severe allergies. He's reactive to over 200 substances and needs to drink the hypoallergenic formula. He's only two months old! He can't even handle solid food yet! You took his special formula to feed a dog. Do you want him to starve to death?" Isaac frowns in annoyance. "Nancy's parents are gone. Rocky is the only family she has left. What's wrong with letting it have a little formula to ease its stomach? You're a mother. How can you be so heartless?" I'm about to dash out of the car. "Is our son's life worth less than a dog's?" Isaac slaps me and yells, "Our son will only grow strong if he experiences a little hunger and cold. It won't kill him to miss a few meals."