Time to talk

I'm sitting in the school library at my table for parent-teacher conferences. It's 4:11 and we go until 8:00. Maybe Lyla will be especially troublesome at bedtime tonight; maybe I'll get home and she'll be beside herself, shouting "DADA!" and sobbing, fixated on her absent superman father to the point of hysterical sleeplessness.

But probably she'll be fast asleep. I'll creak open the nursery door and poke my head in despite Julie's fiercely whispered objections. The hallway light will barely glide over Lyla's form and I'll stand for a moment and stare at her silhouette, butt in the air, body scrunched up, surrounded by binkies and a frog on one side, a duck on the other.

Ah well. I've instructed Julie to take pictures, so I'll post one when I get home. And now if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to other parents about their kids.

*Update*

I'm home.