Stand back. I almost cry. Little boys shouldn’t have to ever take care of their mothers. “You can try, just for a minute,” I say, crouching close by in case he slices off a few fingers and I have to run fast to get them on ice.

Nothing will go wrong, I tell myself. Why would anything go wrong? This whole tree thing has been a roaring success.

William saws and hacks away at the tree. Carpenters and contractors on home improvement shows would be appalled at our crafts skills, but we’re a family, and we hack and saw like a family. “How’s it going?” I ask him.

“Good, Mom.”

Jessica’s crouching close now, too. “My turn.”

“No, Jessica. You’re not going to use the knife.”

“Why not? William is.”

“William’s almost four years older.”

“So?”

“Knives are dangerous—”

“You let him do everything and you don’t let me do anything.”

“You’re right.” I sit back, hands on thighs. “I should have let you get crushed by the tree instead of William. He’s ninety pounds and you’re what? Forty? You can handle it.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “I wouldn’t get crushed. That’s an exaggeration. Daddy says you always exaggerate.”

Oh, I love Daniel. I love him sooooo much.

“William, that’s good,” I say, beginning to get uneasy the longer he saws at the tree. I’m just waiting for the knife to slip, fingers to fly, blood spurting. And I’m seriously not good with blood. Even when I was a kid, the TV show Emergency made me queasy.

“But, Mom, I’ve almost got it.”

“No.”

“Mom—”

“No! Give me the knife.”

He looks like a dog that’s just been kicked. But he hands me the knife.

Jessica, however, eyes me with five-year-old contempt. “You didn’t have to yell at him, Mom. He was just trying to help.”

“Jessica…”

“Why are you always so mean?” She glares at me. “Melinda’s not mean.”

Melinda being her daddy’s legal eagle girlfriend in Silicon Valley. She’s smart, Jacqueline. Ambitious. Princeton grad, MBA from Brown, we’ve got so much in common. Hooray, Daniel. I’m so glad for you.

He and sexy, sleek Melinda practically live together, while I can’t even think about dating.

It’s not that I hate men, I just don’t want anything to do with them. I’ve been divorced a year now, and I’m still dead inside. I’ve nothing left to give anyone, and the men I do meet are looking for wife number two to replace wife number one, which means (like me) they come complete with houses, children, and ex-spouses. And I’m not ready for that. I can barely deal with my own kids; how can I possibly deal with anyone else’s?