K and I look at L and try to imagine what she’ll look as a toddler. As a young child. A pre-teen. And so on. I can’t get much beyond the young child.

There are, however, a few things K and I are sure of.

She’ll have an inordinate number of bad hair days, thanks to that swirling cowlick just beside her right temple and another more toward the center of her forehead. In adolescence, they will likely drive her to angry tears at least once.

“That’s all assuming she’s the type to be terribly worried about her physical appearance,” one might suggest.

No, they’ll upset her no matter what — they’re that bad.