A little work crept in early on vacation day no. 5.  Still we made it to the beach for a swim in the c-c-c-c-old ocean water.  We took our son for a swim and then it was time for him to rest and play with sand toys while my partner, addicted to e-books, read on her iPod and I busily answered emails.  We got out of the water even though he wanted to stay in — chattering teeth and all — and he did as we asked.  My partner and I were marveling at this when, I guess in an effort to exert his humanity, he whined angrily that he was both hungry and wanted to go back into the water.  Pausing not to react to the whining, I was so strangely elated.  Well not so strange and no so elated exactly, but I was happy that my son was like every other kid his age in this regard.  Because early in his life, people whispered about the possibility of his being On The Spectrum [as in aut . . . . .  ism].

The gift of normality can never be over-rated in our house.