“I used to think,” she said, “that I was a bad girl.

Because I couldn’t stay quiet long enough to win the puppy.

I thought I ruined everything.”

There are moments in a life that ask everything of you, and that was one of them.

I felt the lump rise in my throat, and I pushed it down, because this was not a moment for me to cry; it was a moment for my daughter to finally hear the truth.

I turned her gently so she was looking into my eyes, and I held her small face, and I told her, with every ounce of conviction I have ever possessed.