CLAYTON POINT OF VIEW.

My night was distressed and my sleep was fitful; I tossed and turned on the bed, confused, a big angry, and very disappointed. Before I got into bed, I had called Natasha, to ask how she was doing and about the newborn child.

"He's fine," she said. "I just breastfed him not quite along, and he has slept off. The boy seems like he has simply come to the world to eat and to sleep."

She chuckled. I didn't.

"Of course," I said. "And what about you, are you doing good?"

"I ...