when she was good, she was very very good.

Ava Wilson was born six weeks premature, in a little hospital in Lawrence, Kansas. For a while, the doctors were convinced she wouldn’t make it, but she pulled through in the end. Once Mommy and Daddy carried her home, she thrived. Quick to roll over, quick to crawl, quick to speak. Mommy’s little genius. Daddy’s miracle baby.

Only children sometimes grow up spoiled, lavished with attention and toys and treats. For the first few years of her life, Ava was coddled and indulged. Sometimes her parents would get an odd look. Worry. Guilt. She never paid it any mind.

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