I was upstairs scrubbing my jawline with acne cleanser (thank you, mid-30s hormones and anxiety for bad skin), and I’m listening to the boys making their chocolate milk. They’ve learned to dump instant breakfast packets in a glass, pour the milk and stir. It’s their favorite drink (favorite breakfast as well) and it was a big deal that the youngest earned permission to make his own. They do it on their own most mornings. I overheard angry accusations that the oldest used up the last of the milk. I had bought two new gallons the day before, but it’s hard for the youngest to take the seal off and pour…