Typical

It bugs me when people say things about my son like, "Oh, He's all boy," or "He's just a typical boy, isn't he?"

He's a very deep and complicated character. Don't try to sum him up in a few flippant words, because you will be so wrong.

My son is empathetic, brave, strong, and imaginative. Unlike my daughter, who only had a brief one-day relationship with an imaginary friend, my son has developed the dynamic Brick. Brick has moved from Cape Cod to New York, has lots of friends and money, and has a birthday almost every day.

My son is sensitive, nurturing, and fun. He has befriended the girls at school, who gush about him to their parents. When his special girl friend tells him that she only wants to play with other girls, he cries for a bit and then says, "Fine! I'll play with a boy until you figure out what a good friend I am." She came running back to him in two minutes flat.

My son is smart, and musical, and sweet, and beautiful, and...and...

Okay. I admit it. He can be a typical boy.

He found a ruler the other day and set about measuring things. He measured his train. Three inches. He measured his bed. Eighteen inches. He measured his pillow. Ten inches. He took one look down at his body and pulled off his pants to measure his...ahem.

Twelve inches!

Freaking typical.