Nearly every time you vomited,
it was hot dog, on your dad,
or in my slippers when you came to tell me.

Three hours into your scream-crying flight at 4 months old,
I handed you to a French lady who asked to hold you,
she patted your back and said, “She yust need to buhrpe,”
the screaming stopped, no one cheered out loud, but they did with their faces.

11:00 PM at a New Year’s Eve party, 
11-year old you said, “You can go ahead home, Dad,
Mom and I will get a ride.”

You have never run faster than when chasing
a runaway dog- yours or someone else’s-
through busy neighborhood streets;
this comes up more than seems statistically probable.

We were all settled on the mat for prenatal yoga
when the peaceful music gave way to whale noises 
I was snort-laughing and about to pee
when the instructor asked us to leave.
Even in utero, you were my favorite, joyful human.