It took me half an hour to pack all the paraphernalia I thought I might need for a car trip with Timmy. Diapers. A change of clothes for Timmy. A change of clothes for me, in case we had any more unfortunate food or diaper incidents. Baby wipes. A cooler containing a couple of sippy cups of milk, a couple of bottles of water, and some dried fruit, along with one of those blue ice things to keep it all from spoiling. A sandwich bag of Cheerios and another of trail mix. Toys. Books. Kiki and Blanky, of course. I’d initially assumed that they were along to provide nighttime companionship, and perhaps to soothe an occasional moment of stress, but I’d now realized they were Timmy’s constant companions. Though perhaps despite his cheery demeanor, Timmy’s entire stay at our house had been one prolonged stressful experience. He’d stopped asking about Mommy, but that might be a bad sign rather than a good sign. I pushed that alarming thought out of my mind. I also took along a first aid kit—not the little one I usually kept in the car, but the big, industrial one I’d bought after the last time we had unwisely let Dad get his hands on a chain saw.
