“I don’t know that I would say nice to me, exactly,” Jemima said, smiling in spite of her long-suffering sigh (because these kinds of conversations about the baby were easy to have, she was glad to be able to talk about it to anyone who might listen, never mind if poor Zipporah didn’t yet understand). “But kicking the stuffing out of me when I’m trying to sleep? They’re rather good at that.”
