Admitting when you're wrong....

Yesterday my son, the peaceful one, the one who had the blissful birth, said it wasn’t his fault
a plant of his died when he left it outside. "I don’t know whose it was."
I started weeping.
He was stunned. "Why?"
Because, child, man, whatever you are at 16,
you brother has hurt himself, but says it's not his fault and his mind is far away and now you tell me this plant died of it's own accord.

"And what does that have to do with me?" He wanted to know.

"It’s not just you, but the men I know, too," I said, "why can’t each person just learn to say, 'Yes, I did
it, it’s my fault, not yours. I’m sorry.' "

He sat there speechless for a while. Finally, said, "well it WAS my fault."
My heart refilled, the tide came back into it
and I told him that if I raise one male in this world who will take responsibility when he pisses people off, I will have an ample legacy.