It’s 7 p.m. I’m jamming my two-year-old’s plump feet into the leg holes of his pajamas while he sings an unhinged remix of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” His teeth have been brushed (by me) and his splayed toothbrush bristles vigorously chewed (by him). I zip the pajamas up and he cackles with delight, waving his dinosaur-face feet off the edge of the chang…
