They both sit on the back of the couch, their legs hanging down. My arms are wrapped around the boy's stomach to stop him from tumbling forwards or backwards or even sideways. The kids lean their elbows on the window sill. They smack at the glass.
Is that daddy? I ask pointing to an older woman walking down the street.
No! the girl yells as the boy vehemently shakes his head.
Is that daddy? the girl says about the teenager passing by our house.
No! I reply. That's not daddy!
Look, is that daddy? I think that's daddy! The boy points with me to the park across the street.
No, mama, silly. That's a tree!
There we sit, the three of us. Waiting and watching.