Unheard.

"No!" She shielded her face with her arms, as if she was afraid something or someone was about to hit her. I stood on the other side of the room, watching her intently, puzzled, as tears slid down her small, beautiful face. My husband stares at me, concerned and confused. She screams loudly, dropping her legs and pulling her knees up, barrying her face into her shirt. Kade runs to the other side of the room, absentmindedly touching his hand on her shoulder. She quickly retaliates and slides back, screaming. And she won't stop.1

"Mary, that's quite enough now, stop it!" Kade yells. He picks up our fighting daughter and puts her on the couch, holding back her arms and legs. "Mary Grace Keshly, stop!"2

"Kade, stop... you're hurting her!" I sprint to the couch and grab my daughter out of my husband's hands. She barries her face into my shoulder. 3

"Mary, sweetie, tell Mommy what's wrong. What's wrong, Mary?" I ask her, as I rock her back and forth.4

"They're talking to me, Momma. They're talking to me and they're saying mean things to me. Make it stop! Make it stop!" She whispers.5

Kade stands up, looking close at our daughter. I'm completely confused. They didn't have this in the parenting books.6