|Amelia, are you okay?|
|SHE’S LOST IT!!!|
I am not stressed. I am not stressed. If I repeat it enough times, perhaps I will not be stressed!
Every now and then, Amelia looks like she’s on the verge of one of her when-we-were-in-Africa break-downs. She hasn’t had a breakdown of that magnitude in the U.S. She’s done great. But when she looks like she’s thinking about losing all control — about screeching at a glass-breaking pitch and flailing her petite body with all her strength — my own body fills with feverish fear.
I know it. When Amelia loses control, I also have no control. There is little I can do to comfort her. And so I tremble and pray that my almost-always-happy-girl will keep her precious smile and sweet laugh.