I squat down beside Kelsey. “Hey, honey. You ready to go? You can help me make Mrs. Myers’ pie if you want when we get home.” She looks at me, and I want to cry when her lips stay closed. She gives me a small nod, but that’s all. I know she’ll help with the pie. She’s a very good child, always doing what I ask without complaint. Sometimes I wish she would throw a tantrum. At least she would be showing some form of emotion. But then I feel terrible for thinking that way, because no matter how Kelsey acts, she’ll always be perfect in my eyes. I lean over and kiss her cheek before standing. She
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