A three-or-four-year-old round-faced boy, still or again dressed in Halloween costumery, toddles down the street a good twenty paces ahead of his pregnant mom, who shuffles along, deliberately, between exasperation and almost unbearable love. Every half-block the boy stops, stretches out a be-sandaled foot and, with a warlike shriek, stomps smack into the middle of the nearest rain puddle. His mother calls his name. Red-cheeked and smiling, he turns to look at her, knowing he's already been forgiven for what will come next.