My baby and her baby

During those bleary nights
with the wailing
and the impenetrable sour milk smell
and the dozens of dirtied blankets
and the frantic pacing
and the helpless tears
and the exhausted arguing
and the sore nipples
and the brief consideration of using duct tape in a variety of off-label ways
I never thought of the beautiful Sunday afternoon I might spend
teaching endless swaddling lessons
to a patient little girl who likes to fiercely claim
she is now too old for dolls 

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