Anna Mileva. Where I see during a thunderstorm (№ 381262)

...What's going on, similar to the fate of single mothers.
She raised the baby for three long years as he could: cooked porridge, read stories and made Superdome from the sheets. She is exhausted to zero and just expected the government will give her a place in kindergarten, and she can unhook himself from the child and remember what she is a woman. At least for a little bit. In a little bit.
But there comes the terrible speech therapist and sternly indifferent voice tells her that she "started child", and, if we do not start to pay it more attention, it is HER fault, will last a lifetime with speech.
And the mother sits in the corner of the balcony crying. Because she gave all she could, but it turns out... she has not yet started.