"Really honey, it's fine."

Julia put her hand on my shoulder, kissed the back of my neck. "I'm sorry I'm such a jerk. I'm really tired. I don't know what came over me. Let me change the baby, I never get to see her."

"Okay," I said. I stepped aside, and she moved in.

"Hi, Poopsie-doopsie," she said, chucking the baby under the chin. "How's my little Winkie-dinkie?" All this attention made the baby drop the rattle, and then she started to cry, and to twist away on the table. Julia didn't notice the missing rattle caused the crying; instead she made soothing sounds and struggled to put on the new diaper, but the baby's twisting and kicking made it hard. "Amanda, stop it!"

I said, "She does that now." And it was true, Amanda was in the stage where she actively resisted a diaper change. And she could kick pretty hard.

"Well, she should stop. Stop!"

The baby cried louder, tried to turn away. One of the adhesive tabs pulled off. The diaper slid down. Amanda was now rolling toward the edge of the dresser. Julia pulled her back roughly. Amanda never stopped kicking.

"God damn it, I said stop!" Julia said, and smacked the baby on the leg. The baby just cried harder, kicked harder. "Amanda! Stop it! Stop it!" She slapped her again. "Stop it! Stop it!" For a moment I didn't react. I was stunned. I didn't know what to do. The baby's legs were bright red. Julia was still hitting her. "Honey…" I said, leaning in, "let's not-" Julia exploded. "Why do you always fucking interfere?" she yelled, slamming her hand down on the dresser. "What is your fucking problem?"

And she stomped off, leaving the room.

I let out a long breath, and picked the baby up. Amanda howled inconsolably, as much in confusion as in pain. I figured I would need to give her a bottle to get her to sleep again. I stroked her back until she settled down a little. Then I got her diaper on, and brought her into the kitchen while I heated a bottle. The lights were low, just the fluorescents over the counter. Julia was sitting at the table, drinking beer out of a bottle, staring into space. "When are you going to get a job?" she said.