Three months into my pregnancy, the twins' special abilities became impossible to ignore.

"Mama," Solana said one morning over breakfast, "Mrs. Peterson from down the street is going to fall today."

"What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"She's going to slip on her wet steps and hurt her arm. We should call her."

I looked at Dominic, who raised an eyebrow. Solana had been making these kinds of predictions for weeks, and they were starting to come true with unsettling frequency.

"Solana, how do ...