Y was here this Shabbat. And all was well.
Taxman was home by the time she woke up from her nap to discover Uncle Y in the house. There was some hiding behind my leg, but we really had to hustle to get into her Shabbat dress and shoes.
Apparently they clicked on the walk to synagogue (less than one block), and they came home chattering like monkeys.
The high point of the evening was when Miss M announced: "Ema, Abba, poopy diaper." (Beat.) "Uncle Y change you!"
Of course, we can't spend the whole therapy fund, because after their wonderful Shabbat together, Miss M and Uncle Y had to part. He had to continue with his business trip and fly back home to his little boy; she had to take a nap. Taxman took the kids to the airport so that I could work on my latest freelance debacle.
When Y said goodbye, she finally broke down in the tears we had been expecting all weekend.