At home, shoes thudded by the door, small and neat. The boys did as they had practiced. They washed their hands, changed shirts, and helped set the table. They filched the first slices while I made soup, and I pretended not to see. They had to be patient.
After dinner, we did homework side by side. Both boys were dramatic; Elijah read his sentences out loud and Caleb lined up his numbers like soldiers.
Bath time was noisy but bedtime was not. My sons knew when to be quiet even if they didn’t know why. I tucked Elijah first because he always pretended he didn’t need it. He rolled to face the wall, then rolled back the second I shifted away. So I stayed and watched till he was brave enough to call me. “Mommy?”
“Yes, dear.”
“When it’s time,” he murmured, eyes already drifting, “will you
