Today at the pool I met a lovely woman who has seven kids. Two of hers, four of his, one of theirs. Not all of them live with her all the time, but I still admired her aplomb.
We sat, the two of us, and discussed how boys are their own type of creatures, different from ordinary humans: how they will go back to a monster or a truck, no matter what toy is offered. How the politically correct idea of boys and girls being the same and trained by environment is bunk, and how many mom's we've met who have expressed the same thought in surprise.
In this case, however, it is her husband who is learning. She has an older boy and girl, but he has four girls, so their little boy is a whole new ball park.
She expressed great sympathy when she found out that I had three boys. I was gratified.
I was also gratified to discover that the owner of the farm where the Cherubim rides had not noticed that he was autistic -- she called me when she saw it on his camp application. She' s seen him riding but not in the barn. But still, made me feel kind of good.