Or I’d have to be a muddha-figure and for that I’ve got the two of you and God knows I messed that up as well.’ ‘Oh come on.’ ‘That’s sweet of you. But see, if you weren’t a messed up child, my messed up child, you would have made a nice long speech about how I was the perfect mother. But you can’t. So we’re all messed up by Reader’s Digest standards. We’ll never make it to a heart-rending story you can read on your summer vacation.’
