I recently picked up Maxon, my older son, from a friend's house in the suburbs. When I arrived, he and his friend were jumping on an enclosed trampoline next to a playground structure in the expansive backyard. His friend's mom was spraying water from a garden hose into the trampoline while the boys tried to avoid or trick over the spray. They were soaked, blades of grass stuck to their legs, breathless from one-upping each other. The mom seemed slightly apologetic for the scene, although she shouldn't have been. They had been in the pool, then in the woods behind the house discovering abandoned cars and doll heads, then playing with LEGOs in the basement that could fit five or six of our basements.