A double-take, and I see Ford drinking milk straight out of the carton; he is five going on fifteen. The array of cheerios on the table ground him solidly at five, though, harking back at two.

Chas, meanwhile, sneaks a few steps ahead of me when I’m not looking. Here, he is taking a break from sit-down longboarding in the driveway, elated with the feeling of being able to soar only inches above concrete, all by himself.

I have a cache of smiley moments to toss onto the page but not a lot of time to do it right now: the way the sun dappled through cool limestone shadows as we rambled through the canyon, grazing the chalky outcroppings with little fingers; laughing at the dancing chickens in our yard; standing on stools in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for a pot of soup and laughing at the carrots that kept rolling off the countertop and onto the floor. Despite the occasional headaches, this job rocks!

Ford, the White Witch from Narnia, along with Mr. Incrediboy, on the walk to the school carnival. Looking pretty tired already. But they perked up after each squirted a half-can of cookie icing into their mouths while we grownups weren’t paying attention.

Chas, on Halloween night, decided to be the White Witch, too. But in battle dress.
It looks even better with the red lollipop hanging from the pelt, but I lost that photo somewhere.