Gemotions

He’d always felt like he deserved the best. Now, his son, Finn, was starting kindergarten. Walking into the classroom, the nameplate on the door jumped out at him: Mr. Peterson. The same Mr. Peterson who had molded his own young mind. An instant sense of… unease bloomed within him.

His palms began to sweat. He immediately began calculating how to get a head start. He'd bought Finn the most expensive backpack, the fanciest crayons, and insisted he be at the front of the line every morning. The other parents’ offerings seemed… inadequate.

He started dropping by the classroom unannounced, pretending to “check in” on Finn. Really, he was gauging the competition, making sure Finn was receiving the attention *he* believed his son deserved. The other children began to blur, their presence only a disruption to his singular goal.

His eyes swept the room, cataloging every detail. He would ensure that Finn would be the favorite. That way, he could relive the glory of being the teacher's pet, even if vicariously. It was *his* moment, *his* legacy.