My three children were bickering on a sunny morning at our house near the beach in Pinamar, Argentina.
It was a sibling sort of argument.
I didn’t ask for details. I just said, “Hey, what’s the problem? I mean, look at where we are. Not many kids get to spend the entire summer living at the beach. That’s what we do. We live at the beach for nearly three months a year.”
My daughters, ages 7 and 12, nodded their heads meekly.
But my 10-year-old son looked at me like I’d just told them that it was raining outside.
“But we don’t live at the beach,” he said. “We live in a house and it is in a pine forest. If we lived at the beach, then we’d have to live in tents, and cook over a fire, and…”
He went on.
I tuned out and then walked away.
Magically, however, the three of them stopped bickering, even if it was made clear by the autistic in the family that we don’t actually live at the beach but 10 blocks away.