“Who's the handsomest sailor in town? Who's my little man?” she asked, andtickled him under his chinny-chin-chin.

“I'm your little man,” Brendan said with a smile. “I am, Mommy!”

“You're my big little man,” Mary returned, chucking him lightly under the chin.

She squeezed his shoulders. “And getting bigger every day.”

“That's 'cause I clean my plate,” he said, chasing the last bit of egg onto a forkwith the flat of his thumb.

“You're a good cook, Mommy,” Ashley said.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now come on, let's go. B.B.W.W.”

While she cleared the dishes, Brendan and Ashley marched back down thehallway in a singsong chant. "Brush, brush, wash, wash. Teeth and hair, hands and face.

Brush, brush, wash, wash..."

While the older two washed up, she put the dishes into the sink for later; gaveAdam's face a quick once-over with a wet paper towel; took the kids' lunches, packed thenight before, out of the fridge; and dropped each one into the appropriate knapsack.

“I'm going to put Adam into his car seat,” she called out. “Last one outside is agoogly worm.”

Mary hated the rotten-egg thing, but she knew the value of a little innocentcompetition for keeping the kids in gear. She could hear them squealing in their rooms,half laughing, half scared they'd be the last one out the door and into her old jalopy.

Gawd, who said jalopy anymore? Only Mary, Mary. And who said Gawd?

As she strapped Adam in, she tried to remember what it was that had kept her upso late the night before. The days - and now the nights as well - seemed to blur alltogether in a jumble of cooking, cleaning, driving, list-making, nose-wiping, and moredriving. L.A. definitely had its major-league disadvantages. It seemed as if they spenthalf their lives in the car, stalled in traffic.

She should really get something more fuel efficient than the big old suburban shehad brought west.