They were interrupted by a breathless voice crying, “ZeeZee! I didn’t realize you were coming here!”

The Klein kids were cute, but boy, did they get bored easily. ZeeZee had just settled them down with paper and crayons and a pack of cool stickers she’d picked up at a toy store in the mall (jelly stickers were in right now, eight-year-old Leebie had informed her), and now barely five minutes had passed, and they were already looking for something else to do.

Kind of like herself.

This babysitting idea had been cute, but, two weeks later, the attraction was wearing off.

Now, ZeeZee looked at the four impatient children (well, three; the two-year-old was perfectly happy dipping her crayons into a cup of milk) and announced, “We’re going out.”

There was a small playground up the street that the kids started heading toward, but honestly, it looked kind of pathetic.

“We’re going someplace more exciting,” ZeeZee said, praying some awesome idea would suggest itself in this mucho boring neighborhood.

Last resort, she could always bring them to the makolet and buy them ice pops. She’d learned quickly that this was literally the coolest thing that could happen to a little Israeli child.

They turned the corner, and ZeeZee’s feet automatically started walking toward the villa at the end of the block, set back from the street by trees and bright floral landscaping. She didn’t know what exactly she was hoping to see there, but as she approached the Yad b’Yad Center, she slowed down.

Leebie’s eyes brightened. “Oh, are we going to the trampoline?”

ZeeZee looked at her. “Trampoline?”

“Yeah, in the ginah of Mommy’s work. She sometimes brings us there to play.”

“Does she?” ZeeZee craned her neck but couldn’t see around the side of the villa to the yard behind it. She hesitated for a moment — what if there were people there? Then she looked at the kids and made her decision.