A woman explains why she moves faster these days. She has a baby who’s about to be twelve weeks old. She worries about keeping the baby safe. She mentions how her partner, the baby’s father, moves slowly. How before the baby, “waking up took him whole minutes.” The woman is the opposite of her partner in this regard, especially now that she has a baby. She writes in spurts because she wants to have a record of the family history for the baby. She fusses over the baby, and the father fusses over the news. She focuses on the family history, and he focuses on how “[w]e’re fuckers who bomb people and make the world ours. Take that! You’re ours! Unbelievable.” The woman thinks about the dogs she had when she was growing up, how one of them bit off her mother’s finger. She thinks about how her mother scared her with stories of girls getting kidnapped. She wants to be a better mother than her mother. She considers how this world, where there’s so much bad news and yet somehow still so many mundane moments, is where her baby lives. “Missiles in the Middle East, fires in Australia, starving Canadian dogs, and Josie learning to hold up her silky head.” She tells her, ”You’re doing it…You’re living in the world.”