The Bewishing Hour

Every night around this time, when Julia's been asleep for three-four hours and I'm just about to head off to bed myself, I wish I could just talk to her one more time, scoop her up out of her crib and chat. I wouldn't even need high-level discourse about, say, the charms of Kitty Cat, or the "beeeg shulptures" she loves on campus, or what she did at the park today. I'd be happy with a short Q&A about the status of her diaper. It seems like a cosmic crime, that just because it's nighttime I can't talk to her. Thank goodness that in about seven hours she will re-right the universe with her customary call of "Daaaadddeeeee! Daaaadddeeeee!"