being serenaded by "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" sung at the top of her lungs from her perch on the potty as I fold laundry in the bedroom, smiling and thinking about how much I will someday miss how her exuberance fills this space we call our home...reaching to walls, ceilings and spilling over into streets, city, world. It will always have been a privilege for it to have started here, but that kind of joy can't and shouldn't be contained - it must move. Go, little joy! Spill over again and again and again!
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