“Now,” her voice was shrill like a mouse. The two guests glanced at one another. “My little shrew, yes, I call her my shrew; she’s a wily one. Most importantly, she has something called Anxiety Separation Disorder, or ASD.” Alarm bells sounded for the two baby-sitters: Most Importantly! Mia and Jane stared at each other. Each sought reassurance, yet found only a pair of eyes filled with pity. Their inner conscience started: Okay, let’s go! Yeah, I’ll race you! “So,” the mother continued, “She usually throws a fit and cries hysterically when I leave, even for the phone. I’m glad there two of you.” Her voice stopped to give meaning. Her beady eyes were held firm by two rosy cheeks pin-pointed with a sharp, arrow-like nose. It curved upward at its end to the minutest degree;
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