"I think it’s teleology," I said.

That night Uncle Dave was over for Sunday supper. Mom figures that Uncle Dave doesn’t eat so good in residence, so she feeds him a roast of something every Sunday. I think this is a great idea, except that every so often she serves squash because she says it’s a delicacy. Lucky for us, it was corn season so we had corn on the cob instead.

After supper we all played Monopoly and I won. Uncle Dave said it made a nice family picture, us all sitting around the table playing a game. "Someday, kids," he said, "you’re going to appreciate that you have times like this to remember. A perfect frozen moment."

"There are all kinds of perfect frozen moments," Muffin said, and she had that tone in her voice like she was eleventy-seven years old instead of six. "Right now, people all over the world are doing all kinds of things. Like in China, it’s day now, right, Dad?"

"Right, Muffin."

"So there are kids playing tag and stuff, and that’s a perfect moment. And maybe there’s some bully beating up a little kid, and punching him out right now." She banged her Monopoly piece (the little metal hat) when she said "now." "And that’s a perfect moment because that’s what really happens. And bus drivers are driving their buses, and farmers are milking their cows, and mommies are kissing daddies, and maybe a ship is sinking someplace. If you could take pictures of everyone right now, you’d see millions of perfect little frozen moments, wouldn’t you?"

Uncle Dave patted Muffin’s hand. "Out of the mouths of babes... I’m the one who’s studying the Wonders of Life, and you’re the one who reminds me. Everything is perfect all the time, isn’t it, Muffin?"

"Of course not, dummy," she answered, looking at Uncle Dave the way she did when he tried to persuade her he’d pulled a dime from her ear.