“She’s allergic to kiwi, just like you. She’s athletic. Got it from both of us. Superfast and tumbles the best in her age group in gymnastics. She knows how to count to one hundred, how to read, how to draw a three-dimensional box. She’ll be four in December and is already as advanced as a seven-year-old. She is smart. And cunning. I got a message from her sitter today that she extorted him twice.” I didn’t take a breath, didn’t stop the rush of words from streaming out of my mouth like a troubled river. “She’s so eloquent, so bright. She’s beautiful and loving and warm—” “I want to meet her.”
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