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At Christmas, I was working a double shift in the ER. My parents and my sister told my six-year-old daughter, “No gift and no room for her at the table.” My mother gave her a brush, threw her in the garage, and told her, “If you want to eat, I want this spotless.” She could hear the kids laughing while she was crying heavily and scrubbing. Then, after five hours, she unlocked the door and threw biscuit crumbs and shouted, “Eat it before I give it to the dogs.”