[She takes the hint—though, true to form, doesn’t quite include herself. When Sunny starts crawling, Aubrey gives him a tug;] Hold on. Let me try…

[Trailing off, she moves to readjust her hold—gently scooping him by the legs and back, then shuffling to a kneel, ready to stand. The pile isn’t that far away, really, but it seems marginally more dignified than a crawl. (For her. As if her face isn’t red and streaked with dry tears.)]

This okay…?