Here’s one for you:

The boys and I had just left the YMCA and were walking down James street when Leif, without warning, bolted toward a squirrel.

Startled by its blond-haired pursuer, the squirrel abandoned its nut and ran. First, it cut hard to the left, but with the chubby four-year-old close behind, the squirrel quickly changed tack and fled into more of a zig-zag pattern, darting across the lawn. Leif, undaunted by the animal’s attempts to evade him, charged full steam ahead, arms pumping and determined as all get out to stay right on the frightened creature’s bushy tail. And he did—-all the way until the squirrel said (in not so many words (because squirrels don’t talk)), “fuck all this” and shot up a tree.

When Leif arrived at the base of the trunk, he stopped, and, standing on the large, exposed roots reached his arms toward the sky while staring up into the bare branches. He just kind of paused there for a moment of follow-through, as if taking in the series of events and his ultimate defeat. It appeared the hunt was over.

It was at this point that Finley got in on the fun and imitated Leif’s stance, sticking his arms straight up in the air and saying, “Look, Papa, Leif had his hands up like this!” We all laughed, but I couldn’t help but being struck by Leif’s resolve, and so to support his efforts I suggested he try chasing rabbits instead. I’m not sure why I thought that was a good idea exactly-—Leif potentially catching a feral rodent—-but I figured a rabbit would make a more realistic target, and when I saw one resting in the front lawn of the very next home we passed, I sicked the boys on it.

The two of them chased that fucking rabbit back and forth through people’s yards all up and down the street. A young couple walked by pushing a stroller and I wondered what they might be thinking as they watched the scene unfold. Their looks of confusion or concern or perhaps even judgment had me speculating on their thoughts of me as a parent, entertaining my riffraff with the chasing of street bunnies through strangers’ properties. There was even half a second where I felt bad for the rabbit, which I quickly got over by rationalizing that rabbits are fast for a reason: They’re prey. (Just ask my redneck sister’s family—-they eat them by the bucket-load.) And let’s face it, these city rabbits are awfully lazy, so mostly I was just happy to have discovered a way for the boys to burn off some extra energy while toning up the local fauna.

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