The first time my sister and I confronted my dad about his drinking, we were about 9 and 10 years old. We told him he was drunk, a lot. “Really?” he said, as if he had no idea. We were as shocked by his response as he pretended to be by our accusation. “Wow, I guess he didn’t know,” our young minds concluded. Of course, he did know. Eventually, we knew that he knew, but there was nothing we could do about it.