It's TEN FORTY.
The birthday girl went to bed willingly. One child is dozing on the bed she made for her sister. The sister who stands tall, curly head rocking back and forth, shape not unlike a sumo wrestler in her diaper. It's too hot for clothes. At least it is if you are one, and make gorgeous cooing sounds when people stare at you.
The living room is stacked with boxes, bags of yard sales offerings stuffed into the corners.
The big move is two weeks from today.
And all I can do is stare at this beautiful child, and wonder how it is she's mine.
Life is so good.