“It’s all about your child now,” a cashier said as he pointed at my 2-year-old son who squirmed in my arms while I bought groceries. I rolled my eyes. It was the umpteenth time a random stranger told me the painfully obvious. Of course it’s all about him. Is his diaper dirty? I’ll clean him. Is he hungry? I’ll feed him. Is he hurt? I’ll apply a band-aid.