Most of the day has been in a blur. Everyone moving, though E starts with a bit of reading.

No time until it’s evening, when K makes a deal with me: “Look after the kids now, and I’ll get dinner ready.” The Boy was already swinging, so I just kept up the rhythm, adding our little distinctives.

For example, the swing likes to break, it seems. At the top of the arc, it just stops, gets hung up on something. I push, I tug, and finally when I give it a bump, it gives way and continues on its way.

Another little trick: the foot grab. It’s a delicate little move because the Boy’s head seems like it could just pop back and crack the top of the swing seat if I’m not careful. It’s the kind of move we do once or twice during a session, then I instantly regret it, because the Boy just wants more.

And of course the Girl’s insistence that it’s her turn causes more worries than a broken swing ever could: the Boy knows the broken swing is just a silly game, whereas the Girl’s turn is not.