Packing a house. Not eating chocolate. Writing right now. Thirteen-year-old girls. Patience. Ending arguments. Balancing a checkbook. Keeping a kitchen stocked with milk and cereal. Laundry. Preschool forms that don’t allow you to respond that your child’s dislikes are peanut butter, idiots and losers. Understanding mortgage paperwork. Keeping new boots new. Not swearing in front of my children. Kegels. Liking Keats. Liking classical music. Solicitors. Excel spreadsheets. Holding conversations with a 3-year-old’s imaginary friend: Mom, you have to buckle Dash, too. Okay. Okay. Click. There he’s buckled. No, he’s not. You forgot to tell him to get in the car. Okaaay. Dash, get into the car right now or we’re leaving without you. Making oatmeal. Boy body odor. A tenth week of soccer chauffeuring. With Dash.