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I pulled into my kids’ preschool at 3:29 P.M., jumped out of the minivan, and ran inside. I’d squeezed in a two-hour rope-soloing session at the local crag after finishing work early that afternoon, and I was just in time for afternoon pickup.  “Mom! Quinn and Adaline invited us to go to the fairy houses!” my five-year-old daughter, Eloise, said. “Can we go?” I looked at the girls’ mothers, who nodded. We were, indeed, invited to the Fluttery Thicket, a fanciful temporary art ins...