The note attached to her blanket said "She's yours. Her name is Alanna. Man up and do right by her".
DNA tests proved that she was indeed mine.
But was the mother Sukey?
Jenny?
Polly?
Or Lucy?
I'm too busy to dwell on it.
My mother likes having a granddaughter.
Even if I'm not in her good graces right now.
It didn't help that she raided the hideout and found me there.
Fortunately, she's gotten together with Blaine, so I'm mostly off her radar screen.
Ayesha Ansari kicked the bucket and left some room at the top in the hideout. For Jerome Minton, not for me, but I moved into the vacuum.
I think I had a party to celebrate. It's hard to keep track; I'm always having a party.
There was one for Byron's birthday.
One for my mother's.
One for Devin's and mine.
And one for Alanna's.
Who knew that toddlers were so much higher maintenance than babies?
Besides bottles and diapers, there's potty training.
Walking.
I'm glad someone in this house has time for romantic evenings; it sure isn't me!
