It's Sunday. Fathers and mothers with cameras on the driveway’s edge. The kids look for colored eggs out front, shrieking about bees in their pink baskets full of plastic grass. One father says they're boring bees, and while the kids just stare he says carpenter bees or bees that live in that wooden fence. A little girl bursts across the yard toward a mother, any of them. They take photos. A father laughs and says he'll wait until winter to rip out the posts. The bees, black and thick as thumbs, hover scattershot among the kids in the yard. The fathers laugh to themselves at the camera's small screen.