For three days my daughter has clung to me. It's such a moving experience. To feel the heat radiate from her small body, the rapidity of her heart, the inability of her lungs to keep normal time. "I not feel bad, I not go back to doctor." Precocious little thing.
She's well now. It feels grand to be the ultimate comfort object. It feels suffocating to think of my child being so ill.
She's a ballerina, trouble-making, realist once again. And she's only two.