The physical therapist is here. She and Sophie are in Sophie’s room, working hard.

But not without a prelude — never without a prelude. Several, sometimes.

This morning (not an unusual one) involved Sophie running out the back door to greet Dorcas; refusing to come inside; coming inside but refusing to take her thyroid pill (with peach yogurt, NOT BBQ sauce this morning) til Dorcas had admired the picture of her on the roller coaster at Sea World; and then holding the kitchen door shut til Dorcas said the magic words (Olivia the Pig) and pretended to ring the doorbell.

As Dorcas was finally granted access, I looked at her and asked, “Will Sophie be doing this when she’s 30?”

Dorcas (who has worked with Sophie since she was 4 months old and is one of the wisest people I know) didn’t skip a beat.

“Not if you don’t let her,” she said.