Recently, my daughter’s family came for a visit. One evening, the three younger grandkids, a girl and two boys, ages 8, 6, and 4, took turns running around the house while I sat on the porch and timed each race. In between these sprints, they climbed trees, the granddaughter danced and sang a song from the old flick “High Society” on the porch, the boys dashed around the yard shooting off cap pistols, which were impressively loud, and I sat in my chair, feeling exhausted just from watching this spectacle. Minutes later found me with the two boys in the backyard, popping off a BB gun with a white paper cup atop a cardboard box as the target. Meanwhile, the older kids are inside, playing solitaire, watching “I Love Lucy,” and in the case of the oldest grandson, reading Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray.” This hubbub is always …