I am holding Charla, who is overweight like Mateo. I feel upset that Ellie permits this to happen. Ellie comes in and I struggle with my need to help Charla and a wish not to hurt Ellie (or not to be yelled at by Ellie when she gets defensive). I choose to be honest with my feelings and say, "I know you don't want to hear this and that I promised I wouldn't, but I have to tell you this for Charla's sake." I go on quickly. I am eloquent and empathetic (I think) and she hates hearing it, but bears up well, not yelling or interrupting, but shuddering and bowing her head sometimes. I tell her she is presenting a role model for Charla that teaches her all the wrong things. I point to the mess in Charla's room where she's shredded paper and torn up her toys and I say, "I know you think she's destructive, but look what's she's learned from." We walk through the rooms and I point out mess after mess. "And here, I know, is my mess. But, be honest, if it weren't there, yours would be." Then I'm in bed. Someone comes into the room and I struggle to open my eyes. I wonder if it is Aunt Millie who I had seen outside napping on an ambulance stretcher. I pull up my sunglasses and see Ellie laying down across my body. She says, "Hold me, Mama" in a baby-like, heart-breaking tone.