All you remember about your child being seven is the carpool6 schedule. You learned to apply makeup in two minutes and brush your teeth in the rearview mirror1 because the only time you had to yourself was when you were stopped at red lights. You considered painting your car yellow and posting a"taxi"sign on the lawn next to the garage door. You remember people staring at you, the few times you were out of the car, because you kept flexing2 your foot and making acceleration3 noises. You wished for the day your child would learn how to drive.

　　All you remember about your child being ten is managing the school fund?raisers. You sold wrapping paper for paint, T?shirts for new furniture, and magazine sub**ions4 for shade trees in the school playground. You remember storing a hundred cases of candy bars in the garage to sell so the school band could get new uniforms, and how they melted together on an unseasonably5 warm spring afternoon. You wished your child would grow out of playing an instrument.