she just didn't fit in

Prussia, 1887.
She had hopes of having a child like like herself.
When he was born her heart at once felt the bittersweet
dichotomy of maternal joy and genetic repulsion.
For it was clear that her boy, this little hard shelled wonder would
take after her husband.
They were told that his shell would recede in time and that he would
probably be more of a hybrid, since his father was a pure breed,
surely HE, being only a semi-crust would eventually become more
like her.
She secretly wished.
NO.
Was he doing it deliberately, she wondered. Of course not ...
but he was, against all medical suggestiboles, even MORE Lobstarian
than his father.
Even in sepia photography his colours would come through.
He seemed more confident than all the other boys in school.
His difference made him special. Like his exoskeleton protected him
from their harsh words. As the years wore on, the men of the family
grew closer, and she more remote.
Buschinka was not so resilient as her son Clicky-Hans.
Her heart grew dry and sad.
Now, Her hopes lay in this new child. For she was four months
pregnant.
Maybe this time she would have a girl, maybe this time it would be
born with a dolphins tail and hoofs, like her mother and not hideous
like her boys.
Her beloved boys.