I think one reason I never write about and barely talk about raising a child is because it's scary to think that the child might read what I wrote one day and find all the things that were wrong with it. Of course, they also would have had to live through the same and could find some of the wrong things that way, but certainly the written record would expose further blunders.

Also, to claim that I'm raising the child is a huge exageration, and it's not what I'm claiming. At best I just help out. I guess that's a second reason I don't write about it: it feels like the words are wrong. Words force us to group myriad physical realities into a small set of abstractions. These abstractions then reflect back on the physical reality by carving flows for electrical impulses to traverse in our brains. But to attempt describing a specifical physical reality in words, one finds language woefully inadequate. Yet, it's what we have, so we do it anyway. And our thoughts, though faster and inclusive of additional representations (visual imagery, feelings, smells, aliases) are hardly superior to words in the face of an infinite reality.

Anyway, when it comes to the relationship between Keira, my biological daughter, and me, Grant, her biological parent, I'm always at a loss for words. The main goal I think is that she has as much emotionally and intellectually engaging people and content around her as is prudent. I was about to say possible, but moderation and balance are important in all things, so presumably the word spoiled sometimes applied for good reason. Also, in going to acutally write this, it doesn't feel like there's much to say, and certainly nothing that hasn't been said countless times already:

"...nothing’s ever perfect... Earth turns on a tilted axis, just doing the best it can."

- Van Hohenheim, Fullmetal Alchemist

Don't take that to mean we aren't all still trying. ;-)