when I was ten, Maman and I babysat our friend Genevieve’s baby, who at one point required a bath. I stripped right down and hopped into the water, smoothed the baby girl’s bald head with a cloth, rubbed the baby soap on her legs and belly. Maman said, “Vivienne! You are so good with infants. You could grow up to be a cardiologist for children—you could save lives.” To which I said, “Or I could be a mother like you, who loves giving baths to my babies.” Maman smiled at me, blinking, a long time.
