A Farewell to Yarns

with three children going to three separate schools that started at three different times, it took planning worthy of General Motors to work out a system that left her free to slop around in robe and slippers on an occasional morning.
    This was such a morning. Jane had risen earlier than usual to get a head start on putting out the Christmas decorations. She got out the crèche and set it up on the table just inside the living room doorway. She dragged some greenery in from the garage where it had been waiting, encased in plastic and sprinkled with water, for two days. Draping it along the mantel above the fireplace, she then dug through the Christmas storage boxes until she found the string of twinkle lights she wanted. She put the traditional red tablecloth on the dining room table and set out her collection of Santas from around the world on the sideboard.
    Unfortunately, that was all the further she’d gotten by the time she had to get the kids stirring. Now she leaned on the kitchen counter watching the driveway for Mike’s ride to arrive. Mike, her high schooler, was in the middle of the kitchen floor trying to force a tuba into its elephantine case. He was mumbling angrily, and Jane was being very careful not to hear the exact words. If she did, she’d have to be motherly about his language, and he was under enough pressure already.
    “You wouldn’t think a tuba could actually grow overnight, would you?“ Jane said, trying to cheer him up.
    Mike looked up at her and said scathingly, “Mom, do you realize if I can’t get this thing to fit, you’ll have to drive me? I can’t make everybody wait.”
    Jane abandoned cheerfulness. “I don’t see why not. I wait nearly every morning I drive for Scott to finish combing his hair. Cram the thing in. I’m not driving anybody anywhere today.“
    “You could let me have the car,“ he suggested.
    “Not if you set my hair on fire.“
    “That’s not fair, letting him have the car,“ Katie said, galloping down the stairs with Jane’s purse in her hand. “Can I have five dollars?“
    “What for, and I’m not letting Mike drive, and what difference would it make to you if I did?”
    Katie ignored all but the first of this. “The ninth-grade field trip to the Art Institute. You said I didn’t have to pay school things out of my allowance.“
    “Agreed, but how can it cost five dollars to ride a school bus to town?“
    “Mother, there’s lunch,“ she explained condescendingly.
    “Take five. Not a penny more. Mike, your ride is honking. Todd, what did you do with the skin?“ she added, noting that her fifth grader had cut up a banana into his cereal, and there was no sign of its original container.
    “I dunno,“ he said, tearing his gaze away from the cartoons on the kitchen television long enough to glance around the table and his lap.
    Jane had been vaguely aware of thumping and thrashing in the living room for some minutes and went around the corner to look. As she feared, Willard was there, tossing the banana skin around with a puppyish abandon that ill became a grown dog. “Willard, give me that thing!“ she shouted, lunging at him just as he flipped the banana skin up onto the half-finished afghan. This dislodged an indignant Meow, who had been curled there, happily milk-treading the soft yarn.
    “Pets are supposed to lower your blood pressure,“ Jane complained to no one in particular as she stuffed the banana skin down the disposal. “My blood pressure is about to blow the top of my head off. Katie—are you ready? Did Mike leave?“ she added to Todd. He didn’t reply, but the tuba and case were gone, so the eldest must have left.
    Katie was shaking some Rice Chex into her hand—and a few on the floor that Willard was inhaling. “What happened to your friend, Mom?
    Wasn’t she supposed to stay here? You made us clean our rooms and everything.“
    “No, she stayed in the house I told you about. If you’d come home for dinner instead of staying at Jenny’s, you’d have known all about it. And in the future, when you’re going home with Jenny, you have to tell me in advance.”
    Katie ignored all the references to her transgression the afternoon before. “You mean she just bought a house just like that? Neat. Denise Nowack said her mom said your friend’s son was really cool looking. You should have kept him here.“
    “That was fair-minded of her. I assume Mrs. Nowack must have also mentioned that he’s a