For six or seven minutes both kids steadied a rainbow of cars on the treadmill.  Rows of cars.  Cars whose three-second future would end in a lump at the end of the treadmill

My son held each up, declaring it a favorite before spotting something shinier and speedier in the next and changing his mind.

My daughter, though, picked up the motorcycle and held it under her brother’s nose.  ”This is the one,” she whispered, “the one that pulled mommy over and gave her a big ticket.”

And all I heard was a reverent, “Woooow,” as my son beheld the puny bike.