It was still snowing, and her children were still young enough to act like little kids once in a while, instead of grown up, as they wanted to be. They stayed out till three o'clock and then walked home through the park. It had been fun, and she made them hot chocolate with whipped cream and s'mores when they got home. It was nice to think they weren't so old after all, and still enjoyed the same childhood pastimes they always had.

She dropped Sam off for his sleepover at five o'clock, on East 89th Street, Jack in the Village at six o'clock, and was back at the apartment in time for Daphne's friends to show up with a stack of rented movies. In the end, two additional girls had turned up. She ordered pizza for them at eight o'clock, and Sam called at nine “to see how she was,” which she knew from experience meant he might not spend the night at his friend's. Sometimes he couldn't pull it off, and came home to sleep with her or in his own bed. She told him she was fine, and he said he was too. She was smiling when she hung up, and could hear squeals of laughter coming from Daphne's room. Something told her they were talking about boys, and she wasn't wrong.

Two extremely uncomfortable-looking thirteen-year-old boys dropped by at ten o'clock. They were shorter than the girls by several inches, showed no signs of puberty, and devoured what was left of the pizza. And only minutes later, with mumbled excuses, they left. They had never made it as far as Daphne's room from the kitchen, and said they had to get home. They had been outnumbered by the girls three to one, but would have left early anyway. The scene was too much for them. The girls looked far more mature, and rushed back to Daphne's room to discuss it as soon as the boys had left. Maxine was smiling to herself, listening to them squeal and giggle, when the phone rang at eleven. She figured it was Sam wanting to come home, and she was still smiling when she answered, expecting to hear her youngest son's voice.