She knew she’d had biological parents before us, and we’d always answered her questions as gently and honestly as we could.
They had both died in a car accident when she was a baby.
That evening, I showed her dozens of pictures from our family albums.
She chose one of us at the beach.
Or so I thought.
The next afternoon, the school called.
When I arrived, Sophie’s class was still seated at their desks. Her teacher, Mrs. Parker, looked irritated.
“Your daughter brought something completely inappropriate for a second-grade project.”
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