car seats. Two college funds.”
“Please stop.”
“And a bigger coffee machine.”
I laughed.
Back then, I thought we had decades ahead of us.
Daniel was always the calm one. Whenever I worried about premature labor, money, or whether we knew how to raise two babies, he gave me the same answer.
“We’ll handle it.”
Our apartment slowly filled with cribs, clothes, diapers, and baby furniture.
Daniel’s mother, Carol, visited often.
She brought food, folded clothes, and offered endless advice.
Looking back, she also watched Daniel more carefully than I
