The other night I woke to hear Sophia railing against all that is bad and wrong in the world, namely: being left alone in one's bed without so much as a boob for comfort. OH the humanity! I scooped her up and cuddled her, palming her cantelope head and cooing the sort of nonsense one tends to coo at an infant.
"Oh, sweet Sophia, are you VERY mad?'
I sat there, enjoying the fuzzy feel of her head, and thought hmm. Sophia. That's a pretty name. We should name the baby Sophia!
You know, the baby. The seven week old. In my arms.