One and a half years later.
[Sera]
Lulu wakes me before my alarm, same as always. Not with a wail, but a babbling stream of nonsense, like she's rehearsing a speech in some alien language. The rhythmic slap of her tiny palms against the crib rails punctuates it. It's her version of a wake-up call. It's efficient, annoying, and adorable.
It's 6:15 a.m., fifteen minutes early. She's been doing this ever since she mastered hauling herself upright, like she's got places to be and I'm holding her back.
I roll over, every muscle groaning in protest. We were up until two. There was a time when a pair of gray eyes kept me awake at night. Now it's a tooth the size of a grain of rice. That's progress.
I shuffle to the crib, rubbing sleep from my eyes. She's already standing there, gripping the
