Having discovered that Josie could walk, we got her dressed and pinned a large note to her chest, addressed to Russ and Daughters with our order, and sent her out the door. Sure enough, she showed up half an hour later, dragging a plastic bag of lox and sable behind her, with a large sour pickle, half-eaten, in her right hand.

We all went up to visit Joel, Nancy, and Ali.

Back in the East Village, we put Josie in for a nap. It was amazing to hear her talking to herself in her crib, a developmental psychoanalyst'sdream:"Mummie...no....bye-bye.......Daddie...no...bye-bye.....Bubbee...Zayde.....Mummie...no...bye-bye.. ....Daddie...no...bye-bye.. ...Bubbee...Zayde..

She hardly slept, and we brought her down. The door opened, and it was 'Mummie! Daddie! Mummie! Daddie!!"--as joyful a reunion as you could imagine.

..

There was no time to make the train, so we took the bus home, and, even though we had the emergency row seats with extra legroom, it was not as nice as the train, especially when you have to pee into a chemical toilet, in a narrow bathroom at the back of a swaying bus at 70 mph, knowing that at least 30 other people have been there before you. And that's just for number one.

It wasn't easy. I don't know how Carol does it..how she did it 35 years ago, for that matter, but it sure was fun.