But I felt anxious. It was barely a year since Carol and I first met Dinar and Athëo, assured by our mutual shadchan that we had compatible parenting and negotiation styles, and complementary skills and interests, and that we’d like each other well enough to run a household together. All that was true. But it was also true that we’d been in a rush, that we still didn’t know each other as well as if we’d courted before the constant scrambling fatigue of childcare—and that outside of child-rearing, sometimes even within it, I didn’t have a sense of which way they’d jump on judgment calls. It was
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