We have outgrown our five-seater car, with the seven of us thigh-to-thigh, baby bouncing on my lap in the front seat. Neighbors grin when they see Swede’s blond hair flying and chubby hands gripping the window, trying desperately to ride like a dog in the front seat with her tongue wagging. The wrestling to pull her back inside is a game she likes very much.  Tonight as we drive home, however, the kids are hushed. Our windows are rolled down to keep the glass from steaming up and rain pelts unlucky arms and foreheads. The kids are half-giggles and half-moans. I throw back an extra baby blanket for them to…