You kind of forget about the dishes and the laundry, and you make a giant breakfast. And you look around. And you see people you like. And your daughter acts like you are the coolest person in the world, bar none. And your son does puzzles at table while you write. And the baby is the way she always is (which is: wonderful).
(All this to say, it is winter break, Margot is nearing nine months, and I am remembering the things I love about life as a young family.)