by Andrea Bishop Elena Mozhvilo The mom and the boy are locked in a tiny bathroom together. The dad is at work. The bathroom door is big enough to walk through. The window big enough to climb through. How did she get here? The boy is on the floor vrooming and occasionally wee-oo-ing his trucks, a tiny red fire engine, his favourite, and a miniature police car. One in each thick, pudgy hand, the knuckles buried so far beneath puff it’s a wonder his hands work. The ambulance, h