Sometimes I do nothing. Sometimes it's all they let me do, my sattelite children. Activity draws them to me. My two hands become eight. There are fingers in the pudding, knees in the dishwasher, feet on the keyboard, whole bodies in the laundry. My attempt to spin some order out of the randomness in which we dwell, explodes into further chaos. I stop. Retreat into stillness. I assume the position, arms loose, face relaxed, unfocused. I lose my attraction. The children fall away from me, go off to pursue their own adventures, building lego super-cars and warriors, drawing treasure maps and monsters or amassing large armys of plastic figures on the stairs. Eventually the calm sinks in and my brain turns on again. I see myself sitting idle. I think, "Oh, what am I doing? There are dishes to wash, bills to pay, calls to make, floors to sweep, books to study..." I straighten up. The children lift their heads and turn to me....