I was reading a magazine in the living room when Brian woke up. He gave a big yawn, sat straight up and pressed the corners of his eyes with his fingers, then put his hands flat on his legs and said hello to me very matter-of-factly. To me, this little routine was hilariously adult, like that of an executive emerging from a stolen nap in the office. I told him his mother was sleeping upstairs; he nodded and looked out the window as if that were what he had expected me to say. After cookies and milk, he stretched out on the floor with one of Regina’s coloring books. He chose a picture of Alice meeting the Queen of Hearts. Before he would touch a crayon to each item, he consulted me about the color he should use. He worked slowly, clamping his tongue between his lips and squinting his eyes when the crayon got close to the borders; when he was safely away from the borders and had more freedom of movement, his face relaxed and his hand sped up. I compared his work with Regina’s on the page next to it. Her strokes jagged out of the lines and were put down with varying degrees of pressure. And like most of her pictures, this one was unfinished. I felt a twinge of jealousy as I watched Brian’s steady concentration. But of course, I thought, he had not suffered a confinement to make him frustrated and impatient.

As if my silent comparison had summoned her, Regina was standing in the archway, staring at Brian.

“Aren’t you the quiet one,” I said. “It’s only ten to four. Didn’t you play with Susan?”

“Her grandma came,” she mumbled, not taking her eyes off Brian. Brian looked up for only a second, and went back to his work.

“Why don’t you get your other book and color with Brian?”

“Who said he could color in my book?”

“I said. He’s only coloring one picture.”

“I was saving that picture.”

I doubted it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You can color one in your other book.”

“I hate that other book.”

“You don’t hate it. You color in it all the time.”

“I hate it. I was saving that picture and now he spoiled it!”

Brian put his crayon down and backed away to the couch.

“It’s all right, Brian, you can keep coloring.” He stood where he was and stared at Regina. “If you’ve got any notion about throwing a tantrum, young lady, you can forget it right now. I didn’t know you were saving that picture and that’s that. There are plenty of other pictures for you to color.”

“He spoiled it! You let a baby color in my book!”

“You’re acting like the baby. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“Daddy wouldn’t give it to him.”

“Daddy would have. Now that’s enough. Brian, go ahead and finish your picture.”

He started for the book but Regina shot forward and grabbed it.