Alfred dimmed the lights. “I hope you’ll be okay without me.” He looked down at her perfect little face. He wondered if she really would be okay without him; he was her advocate. He could understand her, and let The Mother know what she needed.
He nestled himself atop her head and got cozy. This was going to take a while. He scanned and scanned, looking through her available dictionary of words.
“Hm, okay, so she can call on them, ask for milk, say ‘no,’ talk about urination under the guise of playing peek-a-boo…”
Alfred thoughtfully added some words he figured would help her during her travels, and quietly slipped out into the night, leaving nothing but a kiss behind.
The next morning, during a rather intricate battle between The Girl and The Mother over a phone with capitalization issues, Alfred’s gift of gab displayed itself. “MOMMA, WHERE IS DADDY?”



Alfred had heard many stories about her. Some talked about how she loved to swim. Some talked about her gift with lyrical stylings. Some talked about how she was a horse breeder. Of all of the rumors and legends he had heard about her, the most talked about was the allegation that she was a CIA agent.
The Girl turned nine months old, even though she was only 9 weeks old just yesterday. It’s funny, the tricks that time likes to play on our minds.
One tooth, two teeth, three teeth, four teeth, five teeth, six teeth, seven. Seven teeth. The Girl had seven teeth. She started with two little chipmunk teeth on the bottom, then got two adorably large teeth on the top, then one poked out on the left side of those two, while one poked out underneath on the bottom, and finally, the last little tooth came in on the right of her two top front teeth.