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going to do when she realized Sage was wearing her bathing suit. I called Sage over and handed him a T-shirt.
    “We’ve got to go get your sister.” I stood up and secured Naomi in the sling. “It was nice to see you, Victoria.”
    “Oh, you too. I was thinking of maybe getting some more pictures of Zach. You know for the grandparents. Those others came out so well.”
    Score!
    “Anytime, I would love to. You still have my contact info, right?”
    “Of course.”
    “Cool, let me know. Bye-bye, Zach,” I said, waving. I took Sage’s hand and we left the playground.
    It seemed I was back in business.

Chapter 2
    Claudia, the Ant
    It was at the top of my to-do list.
    I was going to get my kids into the perfect nursery school, no matter what. This was a project. And I was an excellent project manager.
    In order to get into your top choice preschool, it was crucial to start eighteen months out. It would give me time to prep the children and make sure the staff at the day care knew to expunge Emily’s biting incident last fall if they were ever questioned.
    In reality I wish I had started sooner. I wish I had started when they were in utero. The first order of business was to bring in an expert.
    The consultant said she was going to call me back in five minutes, ten minutes ago. Not to mention it was 10:57 and every day at 10:59, I shut down my computer and walked downstairs to the café for an iced cappuccino. Now this consultant’s tardiness had the potential to put my whole day back.
    Plus there was a typo in her email. She wrote “their” instead of “they’re.” As in, “I’m sure their going to have no hiccups getting into the school you want them to get into.” This was a woman to whom I was considering giving money so she could “ease the twins’ path into the right school.” One would think that Marcy, the consultant, would have typed that sentence countless times. Maybe she didn’t usually deal with twins. And maybe she was relying on her spell check to catch her typos as people so often did. If you ask me, people take far too many liberties on email. They just don’t respect the person to whom they are sending the email. Or maybe she wrote her email quickly because she was so busy with all her other clients.
    I don’t know why I was trying to figure out Marcy’s motivation for her misspelling. I don’t know why I bothered. I was always doing that, trying to figure out what made everyone else so incompetent. Most of the time, it was because people didn’t care.
    But I cared. And I was excited. I remember the charge I got when I opened each of my college acceptance letters. I had gotten into every school to which I applied. Except Harvard. I was wait-listed at Harvard. But I believe it was an extremely competitive year. If I had tried to transfer there in my junior year, I am more than sure I would have gotten in.
    And I am more than sure I would have initially gotten in if I had the advantages that a lot of other kids had. I’m sure they had experts helping them along. A little money goes a long way. My mother was so certain I could get in on merit alone. That’s not the way the world works, I soon learned, but no matter. She was crushed when I was wait-listed. I think that maybe I didn’t transfer to spite her. And now when I still lay in bed at night wondering if I should have transferred, what really gnaws at me is that once again my mother was right. More doors open for Harvard grads.
    My children would go to Harvard. The right preschool was the first step. If only Marcy would call back. It was 11:14. I was beginning to suspect that Marcy was not who I wanted taking such a pivotal role of my children’s future. I would find someone who was punctual and, more importantly, someone who could spell.
    Maybe Marcy was a grasshopper.
    “The Grasshopper and the Ant” was a story in my favorite childhood fairy tale collection. In every aspect of my life I felt I was the hardworking ant to