“I’m making milk for the giraffe!” Thalia squealed. Nate and I turned to see her, shirt raised, clutching a former favorite animal to her body.

“Oh, like mommy does? From your nipples, sweetie?”

“No. From here!”

Thalia looked down at her belly.

“I guess that’s where my boobs are these days, huh,” I said.

Nate didn’t respond.