As I walked toward the bathroom, she’d yell, “Don’t forget to wash your hands!” It often felt like my grandmother’s purpose in life was making sure her grandchildren didn’t leave any evidence behind after using the bathroom. My brothers—six and nine years younger—learned how to beat the system. They’d yell, “Yes, Nana, we washed our hands!” and bolt back outside before she could check. Of course, they hadn’t. Handwashing would’ve slowed down the important business of being little boys. But Nana, the hygiene detective, caught on fast. She started grabbing them - before they hit the screen …






