We were sitting together in the fading afternoon sun, the table before us festooned with bits of blue Play-Doh and imaginatively colored turkeys. The braids I’d set in her hair during the daily sprint to get out the door were unravelling, the spotted ribbons and ties tucked in my pocket after having been torn free during a living room dance session. Her bangs were tickling her eyelashes, swaying and sticking with each blink. Her cheeks, less full each day, bore little sprays of color, part marker, part concentration, as she held a pair of scissors in one hand and a sheet of construction paper in the other. I held Fin in my lap as I waited, this being our first time with a project…