Last night my wife surprised me with news that our niece’s first choir concert was starting at 7pm. She offered to go on her own, but I wanted to at least make an appearance for the uncle faction, if nothing else.

We arrived, waived at the kids as we headed for the bleachers, and settled in for an hour of entertainment. About midway through the performance my attention was pulled to a group of three boys sitting down and to my left being noisy. One of the girls from the choir tried to shush them. The oldest pointed at her, bared his teeth, and mouthed “shut up, now.”

Almost immediately I was 16 again. The boys represented every bully I’d ever encountered. I fought the urge to come off the bleachers and drag them into the hallway for a “scared straight” session like you see on episodes of Dr. Phil.

Adults used to tell me while I was growing up, “if I could go back and do it again with what I know now—it’d all be different.” I know exactly what they mean.