Wonderful times. Jake sang all day, little songs he made up (“Nonny, nonny, nonny” and “Babby, baby, boobie”). I’ve never seen him this happy. He ate and pooed happily. And tried finger painting. The only blip was his crying as I began cooking. He was just tired though and needed a nap. Ironic that after such a day, I thought for the first time that it could be alright to return to work. Maybe because T emailed to say they’re missing me. It would only be for three days a week. If it doesn’t feel right, I could always resign.