ONE QUESTION FROM MY 6-YEAR-OLD SON STOPPED A MALL FOOD COURT COLD Micah was halfway through his chicken nuggets when he spotted an older janitor sweeping nearby — his name tag read “Frank.” His uniform was worn, his pace heavy, like he carried more than just trash bags. Micah leaned in. “Why does he look so sad?” I murmured, “Maybe he’s just having a tough day.” Before I could say more, Micah stood up and walked straight over. “Hi,” he said. “Wanna sit with us?” Frank blinked. “Oh… I can’t, bud

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