Gregg, Laurie, Austin, and Aidan would all make the trek down from New Mexico to Scottsdale, Arizona to celebrate Thanksgiving with the half of the family that resides in this part of the southwest. As kids, we would usually get pretty bored while the adults shmoozed or prepared for the meal, so my mother reserved a "bouncy castle" (or moon bounce, if you will) for us some years. I got a call from my mom one night telling me that poor Austin had collided with Aidan in the bouncy castle and broke his arm, and that he was in the Mayo Clinic emergency room getting the bone set and immobilized in a cast. I visited him later that night while he was still in the ER. He was lying on his bed, his arm in a traction device, babbling to us all about this or that. For you information, when Austin is drugged he verbalizes most of his very complex thoughts. When we had reached a lull in the conversation, Austin squeaked out "I wonder what the ratio of children who break bones in moon bounces is to kids who break bones doing other activities?!" We were on the floor laughing, "only Austin."
While other children would be pouting and whining and pining for ice cream, Austin was theorizing statistical information pertaining to his current situation. We were maybe 10 or 11 years old.