This afternoon I mentioned to Lydia that the baby’s kicks were so hard that they actually hurt me.

She made concerned face and entreated me earnestly, “No matter what it does, don’t let it out!”

* * * * * *

When it was getting close to dinnertime, I went into the living room and told Olof I was hungry. Tage perked up his ears at that and asked me, “You wanna eat?”

“Yes,” I said, “I wanna eat.”

“Want bread and butter?”

“That might be good.”

He tried again, “You want ice cream?”

“That sounds better,” I told him, “but I had some earlier.”

“Yogurt?” That was his final offer, but we ended up with french toast.