This afternoon, like we often do, Norah and I called Brian to say hi. “What do you want to tell Daddy?” I asked her. “Hi,” she said. She is just starting to talk a little bit when we’re on the phone, instead of clamming right up and getting shy. “Daddy says hi too,” I said. “Do you have any other secret messages for Daddy?” “Love.” And both her parents melted.

Norah has learned how to make fish lips, and will do it if you ask her for a kiss. She also knows how to give Eskimo kisses.

She can, very occasionally, count to five, and she is obsessed with letters. At restaurants, instead of coloring, she just wants us to write letters for her, over and over, marching across the page like steadfast soldiers. She got her big foam letters out of the closet, the square ones that interlock, and has been carrying D around the house. We talk about how R is for Reba, D is for Daddy, G is for go. Of course, all letters are B to her. Just like all numbers are 2 and all colors are blue.