Last week, my brilliant and creative friend Heather hosted space camp for a slew of preschoolers and their toddler siblings.
After we had launched rockets, experimented with dry ice, compared moon dust to Mars dust and eaten planetary pizzas, the children ran amok in the yard searching for asteroids we had hidden.
Lounging across from my spouse, I realized there were nine little girls rushing through the grass and trying to climb trees. No boys.
Among my book club ladies, we have 11 children, two of whom are boys.
My best friends have girls. Between 1977, me, and our sisters, we have only girls.
This baffles me. Who is having the boys, and where are they? Research suggests the ratio hovers at 1:1, but that certainly is not the case in my life. (And yes, Dear 1977, I know “data” is not the plural form of “anecdote.” I remain baffled.)
Are there pockets of your life where all the children are male?
I blog rarely, because I'm writing books. When I do blog, I focus on writing, friendship, family, and books. Because my family's best nicknames are private, I use their birth years for shorthand: