My son’s wife had always refused to let anyone hold their baby—until the day of my birthday party.

in my arms, there was always a reason why I couldn’t.

“She’s asleep,” Nancy told me during their first visit to my house.

“She’s grumpy,” she told me at Easter brunch.

“She just ate,” she told me during the barbecue at my sister Maribel’s house.

Once, when I reached out to Willow because she was starting to get restless in her stroller, Nancy stepped between continue reading …