My Son Called Me A Fat Pig

“Mia madre è una maiale grassa e imponente.”

Outside the kindergarten, my six-year-old son introduced me to the other kids in Italian.

The kids didn't understand, they just laughed along.

I understood, because every single sound in that sentence was something I had taught him.

I stood outside the school gate, seven months pregnant, my heart aching.

Orwell saw me, and the smile instantly vanished from his face.

I reached out for his backpack. But he pulled it behind him, wrinkling his nose.

“Mom, you smell.”