Maybe, I think, she’s starting to go into one of those manic phases the way I used to when I was her age. I can remember that ticklish feeling in my head—like an itch on the sole of your foot, that soft, insistent, distant-bells-ringing sort of feeling, and then the way it spread bodily, slowly, butterflies in the stomach, tingling palms, a twittering in the groin region, and you become aware that the world is exciting and deeply interesting, and your every thought seems clever and urgent, and you might begin to chuckle privately. You’re brightly alert and scattered at the same time. In order
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