The pros and cons of capable parenting

The couple’s little girl lay bound to her mother’s chest, sleeping peacefully, in a relationship that seemed more egalitarian than hierarchical, and I looked at her and remembered no such comfort in my infancy. No carrier for me. I lay on a blanket on the floor surrounded by giant adults staring down at me, feeling dread, ashamed of my lack of toileting skills. I was persecuted by an older sister. Dogs sniffed me, chandeliers swung high overhead, men in big boots walked inches away, death lay on every hand. Considering my childhood traumas, I’ve done fairly well for myself. I’m okay on the printed page anyway — aren’t I? don’t I seem somewhat adept at language? Grammatical, at least? At least I can spell okay.