I should have seen it coming. Claudia sometimes liked to give what appeared to be a compliment. But as usually happened, her warm words slowly revealed their true intent. I have a name for her technique—the Reductive Compliment. Kind-seeming words said kindly, which somehow results in the diminishment of the person being praised. I knew better than to engage with her. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone?

“So, Tim, you’re keeping something from us. What’s the occasion?”

Was it that obvious? Okay, so maybe I’d actually washed and combed my hair that morning, as opposed to my usual ritual of shower and shampoo later in the day, and yes, I’d worn a button-down shirt that brought out the best in my blue-gray eyes, and yes, I’d worn slightly baggy cargo pants, Converse high-tops, and a beige/brown fuzzy/furry pullover. My look was casual but classy. The only true indulgence—other than the newly purchased roll of wintergreen Breath Savers in my pocket—was the faint application of my favorite and only cologne, Chanel for men.

“I think he’s up to something.”

“Are you turning red?”

I needed the ladies to leave soon, for I was about to be busted. And because they’d made such a to-do over my combed hair and my burgeoning fashion sense, I knew they’d know the real reason once Anna Brody arrived with Sophie.

So I tried to use the weather to my advantage. Any roll of thunder, any distant flash of lightning, I’d ooh and ah and uh-oh and say, “Did you see that? Did you hear that? Looks like it’s gonna be a big one!”

While I appeared concerned about the weather, the other mothers were more concerned about me.

This was to be Sophie and the boys’ fifth playdate in as many days, but unlike the previous four, this one would take place in public, our first out in the world.

Playdate #1 has been previously described.

Playdates #2-4 took place on the garden floor of the AshworthBrody home, a vast, cavernous space with an oversize stuffed bear, a miniature toy kitchen, enough foam building blocks for an entire preschool class, cushioned floors, a ball pit, white and pink girlie furniture and a minibar for snack time.

Playdate #2 was all about a box I found in the Ashworth/Brody utility room. It had held a large flat-screen TV and hadn’t been flattened yet. With a sharp knife, I cut into the corrugated cardboard, slicing out a door that swung and windows with shutters (flaps), and dragged it into the middle of the great room. I covered the base with an array of pillows. “It’s all yours,” I said to the kids.

Anna watched as they went wild. “Brilliant,” she said.

“Let’s save brilliant for Einstein and Marie Curie. To say it’s a good idea—yes, it was a good idea. Thank you, Kate.”