At ten o’clock, he had written her temperature as 100.8 degrees and noted a wet diaper.

At eleven-fifteen, he recorded the full oral dose of antibiotics administered without spitting.

At noon, her temperature was 100.2 degrees.

Below that, he had drawn a small box showing she finished sixty milliliters of formula and stayed upright for twenty minutes afterward.

“Did she cry when you gave her the medicine?” I asked.

“A little bit,” Ethan said.

“I held her against my shoulder until she calmed down, then I checked her ear twice to make sure the reading was accurate.”

I reached into the bassinet and gently pressed the back of my hand against June’s neck.