[Interlude]

I tell the children they’re perfect. We default to calling them
.                                                                                                                ;beloved; and
.                                                                                                                                          ;my friend; and
.                                                                                                                ;sir; or
.                                                                                                                              ;my love;
.                                                                                                                                               with adoration at every opportunity. It’s certainly one of the absolutely smallest things we can do to try to smooth away at the recriminations, negativity, derision and insults that have been pressed under their skin for so long and in so many, many different ways.

‘The ghosts that haunt your building
Have been learning how to grieve’

But 9 yo started questioning how could she be
.                                                                                     ;perfect;
.                                                                                                     when we’re also asking her to change_<grow> all the time? If someone’s perfect, it means they can’t get any better. Perfect means no room for improvement, right? So, she says, therefore we must be lying about her being perfect and, by extension, likely_<definitely> lying about all of the other ways we love her._{<I haven’t forgotten the absolute betrayal of being the unloved child>} For weeks, she would circle back to this_<perceived> central contradiction in whether we actually feel what we tell them.

‘They scan the hallways nightly
Vainly
Searching for a sign’

I admit it took me several weeks to find the way to explain to her how her fundamental state is perfect. That that’s how she can change and grow and get better and still be just incredibly perfect as the first day we met.

‘There must be diamonds somewhere
In a place that stinks this bad’

The big dog was bothering her before school one morning in the kitchen. When he was having panic attacks almost every day. As she quietly soothed and comforted him it finally found me
.                                                               ;Is Big Dog perfect?;
.                                                                                                    ;Yes;_{<no hesitation>}
.                                                                                                             ;Would he be even more perfect if he wasn’t scared all the time? Would he still be perfect if he was happier?;
.                        She pauses and very slowly considers this, scratching the dog’s neck.
.                                                                                                                                                      ;Yes, of course. He’d be even better.;
.                                                                                                                                                                                                                        ;But still perfect, right?;

One of the things about her that I just love the best is that you can see when she absorbs the example and then watch the applications spread out before her in real time. She no longer needs to ask me how could she be perfect if she’s also supposed to change.

‘There are brighter things than diamonds
Coming down the
Line
Here they come
The young thousands
Here they come
The young thousands
– Mountain Goats