Part Thirty-One: Eight

My daughter is eight and a half.

She is in third grade at a school in Schertz and she is unremarkable there in every way that I give thanks for.

She is loud.

She was not loud for about six months and then she was, and the first time she shouted at me — properly, about a bedtime, at seven and a bit — I had to leave the room, and Dr.

Fuentes told me afterward that it was the single best piece of news I had brought her all year.