That Baby

I don't know why I do it.

I love saying her name, and could sing it all the livelong day.

Genevieve, Genevieve, Genevieve.

But there's something about that baby that just makes me have to refer to her as that baby. This baby.

That baby is hungry.

This baby is so, so sweet.

That baby needs a nap.

It sounds so odd, to write it down. Like it's a bad thing, like she's some random baby who happened to show up in my arms.

But then, she sort of did.

Show up. In my arms. Pure gift.

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