My sister Clare's hypnotic stare has rendered Sabrina completely immobile and zombie-like. She's been doing that to all of us a lot lately, something to do with the yoga she's been studying I believe. So if you get trapped in an elevator with her, don't make eye contact or you may find yourself mailing her exotic candies and doing her ironing.
Sabrina had her first day of preschool today and loved it. About the third day we lived in the new house, we took Sabrina for a ride in the baby chariot you attach to the back of a bicycle, which she loved, and happened to run into a playgroup of 2005 babies that meets at the park a block away from where we live and run a little preschool at one of the many local churches twice a week. The parents themselves do the supervising, taking turns, and the idea is that you'd be able to leave your child there for a couple of hours twice a week and occasionally take care of a bunch of kids during that time, but I'm not convinced that D will want to do that as often as twice a week. That surprises me, considering how difficult it is to be a small child's primary caregiver 24/7 for years at a time, but my wife is exactly the mother I would wish for my daughter if I could invent her from scratch, and she's not handing our baby over to a group of strangers in a church until she knows for damn sure it's safe to do so. So she'll attend months of preschool with Sabrina before she decides, whereupon I have two options: to agree or to keep my mouth shut.
Am I right, ladies?