Here’s what my typical day now looks like, for example, beginning at what used to be bedtime. I awaken at eleven at night, and then again at one, three, and five-thirty in the morning, to persuade Quinn that there isn’t a spider in her bed. At seven a.m. she rises for good, somehow fully rested, and hollers at the top of her lungs for her mother. As battered as Rocky going into the twelfth round against Apollo Creed, I wrestle her to the ground, dress her in clothes she does not want to wear, and drag her out of the house, still screaming, to my office, where I feed her a breakfast she does
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