It was a simple task, I got off work early so I could pick up my son and his friends from school, and by sheer coincidence, they were at Gym class.

Ah, gym. Where huge kids with pituitary problems are pitted against the weak.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the case with them. I saw the gym class consist of games where neither team wins or loses. I was disgusted at the fact my son, my own boy, or his friends didn't seem to give a damn.

What's happened to America? His whole generation has gone soft. How were they going to become men if they're not tackling each other and ruining their knees for life?

I didn't care that the games were easy or fun. Life isn't fun or easy or what the Asian kid said. It's tough, unfair and brutal. You don't get a trophy or re-tweet in life just for showing up. I had to find a way to toughen Steve up. I've already failed as a father...once...I'm not gonna make that mistake again.

I contemplated a way to toughen them up, and when I thought about my Heroes, George Bush, Ronald Reagan, it hit me, I could buy a small herd of caddle and make the Smith House into a ranch, and have the boys as Cowboys.

Just so we're clear, I am not talking about the Dallas Cowboys, they sicken me.

Unfortunately, it would be easier said than done to get my son into manhood as soon as possible, considering the boys' cowardly and wimpy behavior.

And they were in the living room, watching "Tom and Jerry", like a bunch of cowards trying to hide from their jobs.

I ask in surprise, "What's going on? Why aren't you working?"

"We don't like working." Steve replied in disgust, then his mood changed into something more upbeat as he spoke, "We like watching cartoons."

Demandingly, I thoughtlessly replied, "Men don't do what they like. Men get wives and jobs to keep them from what they like."

An annoyed Steve then tried to butter me up by calmly saying, "Look, Dad, we don't want to be men. We're not tough, we don't take charge, and we love quitting. And a yard full of cows isn't gonna change that."

I was about to drag Steve and his friends to the backyard, when Francine came downstairs, saying, "Stan, leave him alone."

Francine, my own wife? Defending millennials for creating snowflakes?! I'll be damned if I'm gonna let my son devolve to a racist-accuser!

"It's for his own good. He needs to learn how to be a man!"

"He's fine just the way he is!" Francine said, annoyed.

"Look, I'm not going to push him like this forever, just until he toughens up." I replied, shrugging. Then, this is where I run my mouth and start to say something I'll regret, "Someday, we are gonna die, Francine. You sooner than me, probably, with all that string cheese you eat, but we're both gonna go. And when we do, I want to make sure my son will be alright."

"Oh," Francine scoffed. "You're crazy."

"No, I'm sane." I replied. Here it comes, "You're too lenient, Francine."

"What about that time Steve cussed at me for turning off his game? What he said was something you don't say to a mother. So he was on his own until he decided to treat me with the respect I deserved." Francine said, annoyed.

"That was the only time you were disciplinary towards our children! You're lenient all the time, Francine. Geez, no wonder Hayley left us."

Bingo. That hit WAY too close to home for anyone as Steve cringed and Francine shot an accusing glare at me as she asked, "Excuse me? If Hayley left because of anybody, it was you! You're too strict, and it drove her away!"

Somehow, I knew Roger was watching with a sadistic smile on his face. I then grabbed Francine and took her to the kitchen as the boys decided to mind their own buisiness and get back to watching that cat get screwed over by that mouse.

I sternly then said, "Listen to me. Children need structure and discipline."

Francine replied, "No. Kids needs space to make their own mistakes and learn from them."

Mistakes.

That word hit me. All the mistakes that I wish I could take back in terms of being a shitty dad, all starting to come back to haunt me, in the worst way possible.

The awkward silence started to get to me at that point as I quietly and weakly admitted, "Honey, it's been a month. Maybe we should...start planning Hayley's funeral."

Francine's eyes widened as she glared at me even harder, throwing her coffee mug at the wall, breaking it. Then she screamed in anguish, "I wanted to go get 'em! I wanted to bring them home, but you wouldn't let me! Our daughter's dead because of you!"

She was right. Hayley's blood was on my hands. But it wasn't just my fault as Roger had part of the blame for leading to this situation, but if I hadn't did what I did to Jeff in the first place maybe my baby girl would still be alive today.

Crying, I reply, "DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?!"

Francine broke down, sobbing in tears, falling to her knees. I go over to comfort her, but she slapped me twice, saying, "No!"

Francine then whimpered as she replied, "I can't make it, Stan!"

"Yes, you can!" I reassured her. But the truth is, can the family stay together because of my actions, stronger than ever, or did I reap what I just sewn?

How did it get to this point?