Mary’s newest word is “Hug.” This is accompanied by the sweetest embraces and slightly moist, delicate kisses. She is not frugal in the delivery of her affection, and I am frequently made to sigh, “Oh, I love this age.”

But then I will have the audacity to peel a banana, or to remove the stem from a strawberry – my only excuse, forgive me, is that she is incapable of peeling them herself and that she preferred me to take the green part off just yesterday – and her inconsolable fits of writhing and crying on the floor remind me how much “I hate this age.”