History Repeats Itself

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. When my second son was nineteen, he got his girlfriend pregnant. I had never told them the story of how our first son was born, so I got this weird twilight zone feeling when I found out. I was angry at first, as my parents were when I told them about my first son, but I was angry because I was hoping my children would do better than I did. Go to school, get real well paying jobs, have a real life. After the dust settled and I talked to him about it, I realized that he was a good boy and had just made a mistake, as I had. They were going to give the child up for adoption, too, which I felt was the right choice.