The baby giggled with relief. She flapped her arms like a bird. “Better, nay?”
As Mariam was pulling back, the baby grabbed her pinkie. The tiny fingers curled themselves tightly around it.
They felt warm and soft, moist with drool. “Gunuh,” the baby said. “All right, Miss; let go.”
The baby hung on, kicked her legs again. Mariam pulled her finger free.
The baby smiled and made a series of gurgling sounds. The knuckles went back to the mouth.
“What are you so happy about? Huh? What are you smiling at? You're not so clever as your mother says.”
“You have a brute for a father and a fool for a mother. You wouldn't smile so much if you knew. No you wouldn't. Go to sleep, now. Go on.”
Mariam rose to her feet and walked a few steps before the baby started making theeh, eh, eh sounds
that Mariam knew signaled the onset of a hearty cry. She retraced her steps.
“What is it? What do you want from me?” The baby grinned toothlessly. Mariam sighed.
She sat down and let her finger be grabbed, looked on as the baby squeaked, as she flexed her plump legs at the hips and kicked air.
Mariam sat there, watching, until the baby stopped moving and began snoring softly.
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