The children are broken. There are few holdouts who would deny it, but the evidence is clear: all the world's children are broken and they cannot be fixed. Worse, it is our own fault. Again, there are some deniers, but the evidence convicts humans, irrefutably.
Vita was a beautiful, healthy baby girl. Adam and I were very lucky because it was our first try. I was almost sad because I also knew she could be the only one, and I wanted the anticipation to last for a while longer, as silly as that sounds. Yes, even then children were already broken, but I was wrapped in my own little world of pale pinks and yellows and I couldn't worry any more than I already was. Besides, she was perfect. She seemed perfect. I didn't know it, but no longer were children born unbroken. We had raced past that line without seeing it.
At 3 months she smiled. At 9 months she said "kitty" and "mommy". Following an intense teaching period, she had "daddy", too. At 18 months she was walking. By two years old, we knew beautiful Vita was broken. Her cognitive milestones were taken away, one by one, in reverse order. She still managed her physical milestones, but added rocking and banging her head until we had no choice but to fit her for a helmet. No more words. No more smiles. Vita's only communication seemed to be screaming. The world wondered, collectively, "What happened?"
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