THE DAY BEFORE our first appointment with the occupational therapist, we were invited to a birthday party for a child who was turning two. Paul was being his typical hyper self, but things were going relatively well, and it looked like I wouldn’t have to make a hasty early exit for once. There was a magnetic alphabet set on the family’s refrigerator, and he had been entertaining himself for quite a while, taking the letters down and lining them up on the floor.
“What is he doing?” asked one of the other kids’ dads with a frown.
I shrugged. “He’s just lining them up. He likes to organize things like that.”
The dad seemed extremely ...