Eva is obsessed with holes. This week she found a bunch of them—in her dad’s slipper, at the end of a paper towel tube, in the lace on my sleeve. “Look! A hole,” she cried with each discovery, jabbing it with fingers, pens, and even a plast…ic knife, as though trying to hack another one next to it.

This was all well and good, until today when she lifted the dog’s tail.

Sleep with one eye open, Bean.  Don’t let your guard down for a second.