When I was a little boy, Papa and Mama had a way of teaching me things when I didn’t even know that school was in session. One of those lessons concerned Christmas and the Hewitt boys. The Hewitt boys were like stair-steps, about a year apart in age, about 6, 7, and 8 years old. They were being reared by their overworked mother who had at least two jobs. The boys were often unsupervised and definitely undisciplined. Papa insisted that we transport the boys to church on Sunday mornings. Then on the Sunday after Christmas, they were always invited to our house for Sunday lunch. My parents had presents prepared for them, but they also played with my Christmas presents, and usually broke one or two of them. The Hewitt boys were destructive. For the life of me, I couldn’t see why my parents let…