I’m sitting here crying. They showed a meltdown, even though it was a small one. Julia is so precious.

I’m seeing myself when I was 4. My mannerisms, my speech patterns. That could be me in Julia’s place and the scenes wouldn’t be changed at all.

I’m crying. It’s not sad crying.

Right now this might be the only thing some little kids even have in their lives - counting their own parents and teachers, in so many horrible cases - telling them that they’re not alone or “bad” for the way they are.