Meira: I know this is a terrible thing for a mother to say, but Suri is a neb!

Therapist: There’s nothing wrong with Suri being less geshikt or less savvy than her sisters. The problem is that she’s miserable.

Bubby: Ach, I was just like Suri when I was her age.

I hear my new clients talking before I see them. “Stand straight,” a voice hisses. “And look her in the eye when you talk to her.”

“Good morning,” I call as I approach.

The woman turns and smiles. “Hello,” she says graciously. “We’re the Sheinowitzes. I’m Meira and this is Suri.”

“Hi Suri,” I say.

She glances at her mother, tugging a lock of hair down in front of her face, and mumbles, “Hi.”

I offer Suri a seat and Meira waits outside. Suri hunches in her chair and stares at her feet. When her eyes flicker momentarily toward me, there is no sparkle. My attempts at small talk fail.

“Can we talk about some pictures for a few minutes?” I say finally. I pass her a page. The illustration shows a detailed scene of a doctor’s waiting room. I point to a child who’s holding his leg and clearly crying loudly. “What’s wrong with him?”

Suri squints. “He has a boo-boo,” she says.

I hand her another picture. It shows a teen boy standing between his parents, smiling at the camera and holding a large document. “Can you guess where this picture was taken?”

“Bar mitzvah.”

“Hm, do people dress fancy for a bar mitzvah or do they wear weekday clothes?” I point to the diploma the boy is holding. “Does that give you any ideas?”

I talk to Meira later that night. “I have three girls in high school, including Suri,” she says. “It’s a very ‘happening’ house. There’s always dance practice or other gatherings in the basement. But Suri’s different. She never participates in extracurricular activities and though we always have a million friends coming and going, she’s forever whining that she’s bored.”

“Her own friends don’t come over?”

“Her friends,” says Meira bitterly, “are like her. You know, I do everything for her. I dress her beautifully — you saw. I get her all the ‘in’ stuff. But it doesn’t seem to be working.

“I don’t blame my girls for not including her more,” Meira continues. “Suri gets on their nerves. She has this annoying, whiney way of talking and acts babyish. My older girls would let her tag along with them, but she doesn’t get the hierarchy, doesn’t realize when to keep out. When my single daughter has a date coming, everyone makes themselves scarce, but Suri will have a tantrum in the entranceway ten minutes before the boy is scheduled to arrive. Like a five-year-old!”

“It seems that Suri’s social skills are a little off,” I explain, “and she isn’t as high-functioning as the rest of your family.”

“I just want her to be like everyone else,” Meira says.

“No,” I correct her gently. “You want her to be her best.”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 624)