We are driving to the store. Me, a bit fried on David pulling three of the orange ping pong balls away from Rose and Rose retaliating by putting the orange squeezy ball too high for David to reach and then complaining that David has too many balls so she can’t cook, she only has eggs (the four remaining orange ping pong balls now playing eggs in the metal bowl), she needs more ingredients, she can’t put her shoes on she needs help, David going limp when I try to lift him and making sure we have booty, water, keys, phone, jackets, and cloth bags; David, saying “ball, ball” rather loudly because he has dropped a ball, “la la” rather loudly because Rose has started singing, and throwing in a few random screams. Rose, overtired because she had swim lessons today, which makes her both garrulous and quick to take offense, making up songs. I am tuning the children out and listening to the news. I don’t even notice when they both settle down. But I start to get this good feeling, this euphoria. My first thought is don’t break the mood, don’t engage, or you’ll get entangled again. But my next thought is let her know. So I go into our routine.

Debby: “Guess what, Rose?”
Rose: “I love you! Guess, what Mommy?”
Debby: “What?”
Rose: “I love you! You know what Mommy? That’s the first thing you’ve said to me.”
Debby: “What do you mean?”
Rose: “Since we got in the car. That’s the first thing you’ve said to me.”