I retreated into the den and sat on the couch. I saw a TV, surrounded by bookshelves. I couldn't help noticing some of the book titles: Preparing Your Preschooler for Success; Gifted Children: A Parents' Guide; That's My Kid! An Approach to Show-Biz Careers from One Month to Eighteen Years.

Now I was getting the creeps. No way could I do my homework and not feel like a moron

in a house like this. I reached into my bag and pulled out a box of Milk Duds. I popped one into my mouth, but as I put the box down on the coffee table, some of them spilled out.

I reached to pick them up, but suddenly I pulled my hand back. I stared at the coffee table. The composition was great — the open box, a lumpy pile of Milk Duds near the flap . . .

It was perfect for "Junk Food Fantasy." I pulled out my sketch pad and started drawing.

I became so involved in the project that I didn't notice when the piano playing stopped. I was sketching the edges of the table when I heard, "I thought you were doing homework."

"Huh?" I spun around to see Rosie staring over my shoulder. "Oh, I didn't hear you come in."

"Did you spill those?" Rosie asked.

"Uh, yes."

"And you're drawing them instead of picking them up?"

"Yeah," I said, closing up my pad. "I like to draw. I thought this would be ... interesting."

Rosie gave me a blank look that I couldn't figure out. Then she scrunched up her brow and turned to leave. "I'm going to have my snack now."

"Okay, I'll be with you in a second," I said. I scooped up the Milk Duds and put them back in the box.

When I reached the kitchen, Rosie was taking a bowl of green grapes out of the refrigerator. "Want some?" she asked.

"Sure," I said.

We sat across from each other at the table, eating grapes. Rosie didn't say a word. "Would you like some Milk Duds?" I asked.