Blessed are you, Lord God King of the Universe

Midnight, and Vivian is at last asleep. She’s on her back, her head jammed into one corner of her crib, her body stretched diagonally across the bed, her feet nearly touching the bumper three-quarters of the way down. Her bare limbs are slim and finely made; against the yellow sheets they look so long.

When she was first with us, she used to sleep in the smallest laundry basket. I’d put a rolled-up towel in half of it, because she seemed adrift in there; it was oceans too big.

How did this happen? The siddur teaches us that, upon seeing an exceptionally beautiful person, field, or tree, one should say: Blessed are You Lord God, King of the Universe, who has this in his world. I say that a lot.