You can give a kid everything they need—food and shelter and clothes, drive them to practices and sign them up for clubs—and you still have every chance not to show them that they’re your world. You can go through the motions, do all the things you’re supposed to, and no one would ever be able to convince me that their little brains can’t tell the difference between that and a parent who’d light the world on fire to take care of them. I would burn everything down for Olive. And I had to believe she could feel that.
