six months


For a little while every night – usually it’s when we’re having dinner – Soledad starts yelling. Not in anger, sadness, frustration or anything unhappy. Just for the thrill and joy of hearing herself yell.


“It sounds like she’s mad at us,” Alice will say. 

“I know,” I tell her. “But she’s not. She’s just having fun, I think.”


Both girls cross their ankles to relax.

Soledad is half a year old. She loves to play. She lurches and reaches and grabs and rolls. She giggles and sings and coos. Lately, she has been getting up onto all fours and rocking back and forth, back and forth. Like she’ll learn how to sit up some other time and has decided to skip straight to crawling. 

She doesn’t like to be in a room by herself. It’s one of the few things that make her whine. But she can see you coming from yards away, and when she does, she smiles. She kicks. She squeals.


Without a doubt, her favorite person in the world is Alice. Whenever Alice talks, Soledad listens. Usually laughs.

And now that her little sister is more alert and more responsive, Alice is more interested in her as well. “I got it!” she yells when she hears the baby cry, then runs off to sing her a song or tell her, “Don’t worry, Baby. I’m right here.”

Every now and then, when we wake up in the morning, we find them talking to each other, Soledad in her crib and Alice in her bunk, on opposite sides of their room.




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