Normal

I have standard responses for most questions about my daughter.

Q: How old is she?

A: She’s 7 months, but she was born early so she’s small.

Q: Is she meeting her milestones?

A: Yes! We are very proud of her-she’s our little rock star.

Q: Where did you get that outfit? It’s adorable.

A: My mother bought it from Gymboree.

Q: Is she going to be normal, you know, like other kids?

A: (blank stare and pause)

…I’m not sure how to answer.  I think, “I don’t know, is your kid normal.  Because she’s/he’s pretty ugly to me, so if that’s normal, then no, my kid isn’t normal.  And what is normal? Is it being able to roll over? Yeah, ‘cause my daughter nailed that.  The smiling, laughing, pulling you in with her luminescent eyes..since day 6! And making consonant sounds…been doing that for months.  Standing up while holding onto something…yeah, I guess she’s just advanced for her age or something.  Affection? I get the sweetest kisses in the whole world.  Grabs my face between two hands and plants slobbered filled goodness all over my face.  Normal? Normal? Yeah, she’s not like normal kids, because she blows your kid out of the water with the courage she has in her left eyebrow and the strength she has in her right big toe.  You can see it in her eyes and her expressions-she is always thinking.  I’d love to see your child even try to think, ‘cause I have yet to witness it.  I hope to god that she is anything but normal, because normal is boring and uneventful and far beneath my daughter who is the bravest person I know.  So yeah, go fuck yourself with your ‘normal’ and enjoy your melba toast life with your normal kids and your normal family and your normal lifestyle.  Because I’ve never been normal and I don’t plan on raising my daughter as such.”

A: (fake smile)…she’s doing very well-we are so proud of her!