My cast is in the rubbish bin and I can look at my arm
The baby is no longer a baby. She tells us stories. She broke her arm last month while playing in the garden. She was running on the wooden bench and missed her footing, falling awkwardly on her hands. She's more fearless than Small. She got a plaster cast and then a bright red cast the same colour as the one I wore on my leg. It's gone now and she will go swimming again. I'm very glad we have the baby. She makes us happy when we're sad.