And Some People Say There's No Difference...

between boys and girls.

We were at Monkey Joe's. Monkey Joe's, the land of giant inflatables where children run free. They climb and jump and slide surrounded by primary colors and flashing lights and the whir of the air-blowing machines. It's heaven for Davis, a giant indoor playland. He could spend the whole day there, red-faced, sweaty, and happy, and I wish we could, because it costs an arm and a leg to get into that place. We go once or twice a year for a special treat.

Zoe, though, is getting whiny. It's a bit much for her. She is clinging to me. "Mommy," she intones, "when are we going to do something special?"

I look at her. "Zoe, we're at Monkey Joe's."

"No," she explains, "something special. Like a craft."