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How sweet it is…

But I’m so tired there are no words. Flying cross-country alone with a toddler — no matter how well-behaved she may be — is brutal. Doing it twice in a week, with a road trip from New York to Pennsylvania in between, is just unfair. I feel like I’ve been beaten with a sandbag.

Instead of writing, then, I shall lay my head back, close my eyes, and listen through the wall to Mike reading an (awful) Arthur book to MJ he readies her for bedtime. Just the fact that he is doing this, not me, causes an ecstasy so profound I dare not dilute it with other activities.

More tomorrow. I promise. For tonight? Catatonia in front of the newly decorated tree.

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