Stuck in the Middle With You: a Memoir of Parenting in Three Genders
“Like me, she had no visible husband. I had a lump in my breast. She seemed sad. Our sons had swords.I slid next to her on the bleacher, put my purse on the floor. Then a group of dads two rows ahead of us leapt to their feet, yelling. A boy was on the ground. His adversary stood above him, foil extended.“Red card!” shouted one of the dads. “Red-card him, ref!”The trainer from my sons’ school, Kents Hill, stepped toward the ring to protest. But a penalty was not called.“Are you blind, ref?” shou...ted one of the dads. He was really upset. I’d never seen a dad all red in the face at a fencing match before.“They don’t understand,” said the woman to my right. She was a tiny thing, like a budgie. In her hands she held a copy of Cooking Light magazine. “He was flèching him.”“Fleshing?” I said. A lot of the minutiae of fencing was beyond me. Offhand this sounded like the word you’d use if you accidentally encouraged someone to wind up naked.“Flèche,” she said.MoreLess
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