“There will always be someone worse off and better off than you. Always.”I hear this repeated whenever we take our daughter with cerebral palsy to medical appointments, and we see children who are bald after grueling rounds of chemotherapy or families dealing with children’s emotional and behavioral issues.I count my blessings and say to myself, “Self, you are lucky.” I look at my daughter happily tooling around in her wheelchair the color and sheen of nail polish while I fight the urge to run from the repetitive questions and forms in triplicate to skedaddle in the direction of the nearest Krispy Kreme.There are times I forget how the world sees my daughter: a cute girl who walks with a strange gait, who most often is drooling and who uses a communication device to speak. I forget that she resembles a broken marionette that has snipped her strings and says so much with a smile. What I see is a strong, capable, intelligent, goofy and amazing child who lightens hearts and communities that are blessed to know her.