She is waking up in the other room. She doesn't know it yet, but her parents have taken the baby to a doctor's appointment at the crack of dawn and it is me waiting for her morning face. In her quiet room now she sings songs and changes words arbitrarily; nw she talks to herself,
I have a Mommy, I have a Daddy, Hooray for the Mommys.

When she's ready for her bottle of milk, she calls out for Daddy. She knows he can hear her, she knows that Mommy's in bed and Daddy will give her what she needs because he always does, he does it every day; this is what he'll do. He'll bring the bottle in to her the way he does every day. Instead, however, it is me that gets out of bed and pads to the kitchen. She hears my footsteps coming from the spare bedroom and midsong, instantly switches from calling Daddy to Jane

Later, she is ready to come out of her crib. I swoop her up and hug her and snuggle her head on my shoulder.

I GOT IT, I crow, and she answers, GOT IT.

She waits for me to continue, it's our little game.

I LOVE IT. Her thin toddler voice answers, I LOVE IT.

Later, dressing her: I put on her pants before the shirt. She is almost two and doesn't like this.

Shirt, Jane.
Apologizing, do it her way, taking off the pants, so that her shirt is on first. Buckling her shoes, careful to use the third hole because she will kick them off in the stroller otherwise.

Let's get outta here, I say.

She agrees; Outta here.

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