I love talking about my stunning, brilliant, cherished-beyond-measure, 20-year-old daughter. Oh sure, there are moments I overdo it a little, and maybe even gush, embellish, or overshare. I’m an insanely proud mom. I can’t help it, that’s just who I am (insert shrug emoji). But it’s not who my daughter is. And that last part? That’s what really matters here.
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