Chloe, before
As a teacher - or teacher's aide, which was my position - you're not supposed to have favorites. But I did, of course. I had Chloe. Chloe was this goofy, smiley little 3-year-old. She was sweet to everyone and intentionally funny. She had a gorgeous head of dark wavy hair that framed her precious little heart shaped face. I never could decide whether it was her huge, round brown eyes or the smile that stretched from ear to ear that most enchanted me. Chloe came from one of those too-good-to-be true families. Her parents were a little bit older and seemed to have plenty, which, in this particular school usually meant that pick up, drop off and most other parental duties were performed by a member of the family's staff. But not Chloe's family. Chloe's tall, thin, beautiful mommy was at pickup every day, squatting down to greet her baby as if it had been days since they'd seen each other. Chloe would see her mom and virtually explode with joy, jumping up off the ci...