We were at a follow-up check for my daughter, who had surprised our ancient cat–and paid for it.
Her hand had become infected from a deep scratch, and for some reason, I was convinced this was a sign of terrible parenting. And so, I was already on edge when the doctor asked my 5-year-old how she liked school.
“Ummm, I homeschool,” she said looking to me for reassurance.
She is still not accustomed to people asking this. But I have an older son, and so I am used to it. I also know the inevitable follow-up.
“Do you have a group?” the doctor said turning to me.
“We do!” I answered brightly.
“Good. I just need to be sure they are being socialized.”
Being socialized? You need to be sure?
I felt my fists forming into little bony balls of rage.