“They run too fast once the concrete warms up,” he called to me.

I went down the two brick steps and sat on the low stone wall by the pink bougainvillea.

“Catch any?” I asked.

“Only a little blue-tail,” Caleb said.

He sank into a squat and pushed his tongue against the gap where his front tooth was missing.

“Hey, Grandma?”

“What is it, Caleb?”

“How come Dad asked the paint man if your casita bed would fit in a dump trailer?”