She set him down and handed him his favorite thing in the world, the television remote. He immediately placed it to his ear and made little hooting sounds. This remote was actually a decoy that no longer worked on the television, but it served its purpose: distracting Baby Walter long enough for her to get Rose out of the bath. She rubbed Rose’s golden ringlets dry and instructed her to go find her big girl underwear.

Now for Lawrence.

“I’ll be staying up late tonight,” he informed her, as she beckoned at him to exit the bathroom. “So I’ll sit right here for now.”

“Nope,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone into her voice. She lifted Lawrence from the bathroom doorway. He went prone as soon as she picked him up, so she carried him down the hall facedown, arms out and behind him, like Superman.

“Make-a-U-turn-when-safe-to-do-so,” squawked Lawrence in a robotic voice Compton recognized as belonging to the GPS lady from their car. “Make-a-U-turn.”

They reached the door of the boys’ room. Lawrence tried another tact. “This is bullying,” he shouted. “You can’t attack a minor.”

“How about you read to Rose?” suggested Compton. “Maybe some Ivy and Bean?”

“Yes, okay,” said Lawrence. “I’ll get the book.” He loved being the one to read the bedtime story. It took an agonizing amount of time for him to get through a chapter, though, partly because he had to sound out some of the words but mainly because he often stopped to offer commentary on the actions of the characters.

Compton hollered at Rose to go listen to the story while she went to retrieve Baby Walter from the hallway. She found him in the bathroom instead, one chubby arm raised to hurl the remote into the still-full tub. Her face burned as she realized she’d forgotten to drain the water. She snatched him up, startling him so that he let out an affronted howl. Jostling him up and down, she scurried to the kitchen to prepare his bottle.

Back in the boys’ room, she and Baby Walter settled into the blue cushioned rocker. He didn’t need her to hold his bottle anymore, of course, but the rocking and cuddling soothed them both, transforming him into a compact, drowsy, milk-scented lump in her arms. She shut her eyes and listened as Lawrence read to Rose, both of them curled together at the head of his single bed in their footy pajamas. Every now and then he paused to explain to Rose some motivation or perception of the characters, or to point out something interesting in the illustrations, or to offer his take on what the correct course of action would have been. Rose listened with rapt attention. For the first time all day, a little of the pinched feeling in Compton’s chest dissipated.

“Rose,” said Lawrence. He flipped a page. “Have you noticed my new reading style?”

“Yes,” said Rose with great positivity.