I must have made a noise because he turned back, and for a moment his gaze met mine. At 7 years old I didn’t have much life experience, but I would swear that squirrel looked back at me without fear; perhaps with even a touch of daring. He looked a bit silly: his cheeks pooched out with the first cookie, his tail bristling behind him as though full of static electricity and each little hand clutching a still-warm peanut butter cookie.

Again he faced the window, now open several inches, presumably from his earlier entry. Careful not to drop his ill-gotten treasure, he crept under the window-frame and as I continued to stare, leapt onto the branch a few feet away. Within seconds he was completely out of sight.

Wouldn’t you know Mama would return too late? While bracing Jack on her hip, she lifted the high chair tray free, sat him down and locked the tray back in place. Jack was beaming of course. Mama always said Jack was “the happiest baby of the bunch.”

“Miranda Eloise McKay!”

Uh oh.