I am typing this on my iPod on the living room floor, crouched on my hands and knees. I am in a kitty house, with a couch cushion making one wall and the loveseat cushion the other. I have a toy muffin tin for kitty food and a little dish for water, and my last attempt to move met with emphatic disapproval from the builder of the kitty house. She is 3, and flexibility is not her strong suit. This is a game we play a lot lately, where I am the mama horsie or the mama bunny and I am supposed to be still in the living room floor. "Lie down," she sometimes insists. "Close you eyes. Like a mama [insert animal here]." My ankles are falling asleep.