For the last couple of weeks, we’ve been watching with some sense of grandparental pride as four robin chicks are tended in the back yard pergola over our barbeque. A mishap of the feline variety took the dad last week and – we did not know this – but robins have “floater” dad standins who hover at the edge of an established territory in the event that something bad happens to the first husband. Like being lunch. Sure enough, after two days of single parenting, Mom had a new Dad to feed babies. They seem to be growing exponentinentially and the nest is looking pretty inadequate by the hour. There’s one chick with white fluffy hair who, I swear, looks like my old boss. It’s rather disconcerting….