While explaining the ins-and-outs of how to drive a manual transmission, my husband places my hand on the gearshift and then his hand over mine. And we drive.
With the ice cleared of the other players, my husband scoops the baby out of my arms and skates across the ice. With bursts of speed he skates back and forth across the ice, keeping the baby's beaming face towards me.
In bed, five hours into a terrible stomach flu, I'm feeling helpless, useless and sorry for myself. My husband calmly marches into the room with his gear. A few minutes later a bag of saline drips into my arm and I finally begin to rest.
