One of the strategies it took me a while to learn was prediction skills. At first I stayed at the park until the kids were fighting and hungry, then realized I should have cut the fun short. Or I waited until the laundry basket was heaping before hauling it to the basement, instead of preemptively washing the clothes before we were on the verge of a nudist colony. 

The other day, we sat around and told out of gas stories. There were some edgy ones, thirty years ago, when someone would push the car past the yellow indicator's warnings, and end up stranded. The twins were not part of those misadventures, and laughed to hear about being stranded on the side of the road, and using a soda can to transport gas. (illegally)

But the grown-ups eventually changed their patterns and partnered with the fabulous ability of our newest car, Midge, to tell me exactly how many miles are left in the tank, we don't make that particular mistake anymore. 

One time, one of our kids was hungry. Actually, if there is a superlative form of that adjective, I would use it. Famished, comes close. But because of pressures from jobs, they skipped a meal. Or two. When they realized that their body was sputtering, there was no residual energy to go foraging in the kitchen, so I stepped in. 

Perhaps there is a name for the life skill of averting depletion. Many of our routines are designed to eliminate it, such as three square meals, and laundry day. But we can get distracted. 

Which reminds me. I have a basket full of warm, clean clothes waiting for me in the basement.