One... TwoThree. One... Three... "Ummm... Oh hey! Hey Two!" Two, Three, Meerkat! One just piqued a Meerkat! I waved, just barely, quick eye contact, a tip of the head, a grin, a gentle raise of my hand in a faint parenting salute. The meerkat's eyes flashed from mildly alarmed to mildly amused as they turned to watch One hook it down the sidewalk at a rocket pace, hands held flat for 'maximum speed' as she ran, jumping to a stop a few feet before the corner. The gang--7 y.o. No. One, 5 y.o. No. Two, and 3 y.o. No. Three, were having a blast with their urban version of 'beneficial risky, independent play'. They know they're free to do as they please as we wander around downtown, as long as they check every driveway, and stop to wait for me at every corner. On the long city blocks, they tend to get way ahead. I watch for a patch of pink polka-dotted tights, or a bouncing lock of ultra-blonde hair to flag them as they bob and weave through the ...