Over the weekend, we had a party invitation but no babysitter. And still sorting out all the details of baby-toting etiquette, we decided to go to the party in shifts.
David left first. I stayed home with Alice. He locked the door and pulled away. We turned on the Saturday night music show and had a barefoot dance party in the living room.
(Something you ought to know about Alice is that, sometimes, when she looks the most serious is when she’s having the most fun.
I have often confused this look with anxiety, boredom or concern. I have injected myself into her strange little moments of concentration and then realized that I shouldn’t have broken their spell.)
While Alice was in the bath, I missed a phone call from David, whose message let us know that we all were welcome at the party. So I towel-dried her hair, peeled off her pj’s and pulled on her party dress.