I was elbow-deep in soapsuds when my 4-year-old’s cries prompted me to drop my dishrag, abandon the breakfast dishes, and race to the other room. Maggie had been coloring a picture, but when I reached her side, the paper lay crumpled and torn on the floor. “Honey, what’s wrong?” I asked. “I can’t color in the lines,” Maggie complained. I retrieved the wrinkled paper and smoothed it with my palm. The kitty on the coloring page looked like it had been caught in a crossfire. “See?” my preschooler said, as she rubbed the crayon furiously over the holes on the …
