porch barefoot, his hair sticking up in every direction.
“Watch!” I warned. “I dropped my mug. Don’t step on the glass.”
“What is this?” he asked.
“Why is Mrs. Sarah filming us, Mom?”
That pulled me fully awake.
Several neighbors had gathered near the sidewalk, many of them holding up their phones.
“Sarah!” I called. “Put the phone down! You know I don’t like Eli being filmed.”
She lowered it only halfway. “Carina, it’s beautiful! Didn’t you see Facebook?”
My stomach twisted. “What’s on Facebook?”
A man from two houses away called out, “Carina, Eli’s famous!”
My son shifted behind me.
I moved directly in front of him. “Everybody put your phones down. Now! He’s a child.”
A few faces flushed with embarrassment. Others lowered their phones slowly.
I stepped onto the damp grass, my robe dragging around my ankles. Eli kept close to my side.
