I truly wasn't trying to harm her. It was early April-that cruel month when birthday invitations ramp up again, when kids who've gone stir-crazy all winter have learned with fiendish skill how to push all your buttons (and push them, with relish)-and my daughter had asked a little friend over to play. My Gemma is basically a caldaia with pigtails and was running around the house barefoot, as usual. Her impish friend followed suit, as children do, though honestly I hadn't even noticed (I tend to leave kids to their own devices during play dates-unless I hear screams or smell hair burning-and busy myself with dinner prep, Facebook and a glass of wine, not necessarily in that order) until the girl's mom came to pick her up. Together we went to root the girls out of Gemma's bedroom, but I wasn't prepared for what ensued.