When I hold a newborn baby I remember infant Hawkeye, miniature Scout, Mosely Elliot, wilde little Fox, petite Piper. I remember them all. But my mind doesn’t stop remembering with the lavender-scented downy heads of our newborns. I can still smell the baby spit-up endlessly residing on my shoulder. The cottage cheese-like crud that built up in the chubby neck folds and reeked of formula on sticky hot July days. I can’t forget the sleeplessness that seemed to settle on my brain like a fog for half a decade. Half.  A.  Decade.  At least, people.  At least. And of course I would not trade the first year magical experiences…