Almost a year with this person. She had a bath before bed, and how different that bath was than the one pictured above. She splashed around, she splashed me, she fell over and she knelt and drank water from the tub, enough that she got hiccups. She didn’t cry at all, and she stood up while I toweled her down and put her in her jammies. There is something very tactile and deep about the memory of pajamas after a bath, about pajamas in general. I haven’t worn pajamas in decades, I just sleep in my underwear and it’s enough. I wonder, would I sleep better in grownup sized jammies? Does she sleep better because of hers?

We go so far out of our way to provide Roby with as much comfort and ease and goodness as we possibly can. We love her immensely, more than anybody else and we want her to be happy. Of course there are elements of not rushing to her when she’s crying, but not for a very good reason that mean we must hold off from endless heapings on of affection, but mostly we don’t hold off. 

There are countless sweetnesses and moments of patience we afford Robinia because she’s a baby and because she’s ours and because we love her. Sweetnesses and moments of patience we do not afford ourselves because we are old and we are Evil & Re****** as the saying goes. 

Maybe part of having children is learning how to afford yourself a bit of sweetness.