When I say I’m her mom, people look me up and down and respond with, “Ohhh… she must take after her dad, then.” In store lines, I get stared at like I don’t belong. So I say loud enough, “Mommy loves you, Elizabeth,” and she replies, “I love you, Mommy.” That’s when the confusion really sets in—you can practically see the gears grinding in their heads.
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