Standing at the kitchen sink with soapsuds up to my elbows, I look out the window and see a little boy under a tree. He has a lapboard and a bucket of crayons. He’s laying on his stomach with his feet up in the air. A curious cat —that thinks it’s a dog —came to investigate him and he scratches it gently, now behind its ears, now under its chin. I must be doing something right. I’m sweeping the kitchen floor and stop by the back door window. I wipe sweat from my forehead; it’s summer. I watch a little girl run and leap grabbing hold of a bright yellow trapeze bar. It was new just this spring. I remember that first day; she was terrified to sit on it, afraid she’d fall. Now her young body is stronger and her confidence level is high. She hangs upside-down and hooks her legs over the bar. In an instant, she’s up! And then down again, hanging just by the knees. I must be doing something right. The hum of my sewing machine stops. I look at the bed behind me. A little boy is