Continued

Small Cripplings

Small Cripplings A child may be crippled only slightly— some gloomy trace of brushing up against a too-ghastly dream, probably still in his mother's womb or maybe somewhere else entirely, I don't know where. This three-and-a-half or maybe four-year-old boy still isn't aware of his harelip. Otherwise, he's pretty and nicely dressed, and must sometimes go with his young mama to a cafe. But he still doesn't realize he's not supposed to look at me so normally, or exaggerate: bug out his eyes, make faces, chatter, puff out his cheeks, like any other child. Sooner or later it'll turn out that in his mouth everything sounds odd, and that the grins don't fit his face, though now his mother's words mean only what they're meant to: "Come to mommy, stop bothering the man, you'll get a little cake." And he'll go to her and if you ask him if he liked it, he'll probably sayyes. 74 ...