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“I’m pacing myself.”

“You have six minutes.”

His fork moves immediately.

I finally turn off the stove and check the email I’ve been ignoring on my phone. There are already three messages from the office, one from Naomi marked urgent even though Naomi considers almost everything urgent before eight in the morning, and a calendar reminder for a client call I cannot be late for.

I type a quick response with one hand while reaching for my coffee with the other.

“Mom,” Wells says.

I look up. “Yes?”

“Are you coming to pickup today?”

The question is simple, but he always wants the schedule settled before he leaves the house.

“Hannah’s getting you both today because I have meetings until four,” I tell him.

“I’ll be home for dinner.”

“What time?”

“Before six thirty.”

He nods once, satisfied.

Miles swallows his last bite of egg.

“Can we order pizza?”

“No.”

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I thought about it yesterday when you asked.”

“That was yesterday.”

“And my answer has remained remarkably stable overnight.”

Hannah laughs under her breath.

Within ten minutes, backpacks are on, lunch bags are accounted for and both boys are standing near the front door while I do the final visual inspection that somehow catches things they swear they already checked.

“Wells, jacket,” I say.

He glances down at himself, then back toward the stairs.

“I left it in my room.”

“You have ninety seconds.”

He disappears upstairs.

I turn toward Miles. “Where’s your homework folder?”

“In my backpack.”