What’s wrong with her? they ask.
Not as much as must be wrong with you, I want to reply.
That attitude though, the one held by the shallow observer and reflected through my own thoughts, diminishes the speaker more than my child. Normally I work not to let it bother me, but every so often discontent rises inside me, spurred by an insensitive remark or an unpleasant reminder of my baby’s unrealized potential.
I know the better answer, though: Not nearly as much as is right.
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