Spring Forward

Today was one of those days that's so good it makes you feel cliche. We had plans to go to the zoo but when we saw the winding line of impatient preschoolers stacked at the entrance, I simply turned around and told the kids "Sorry, Zoo's full today". The expressions of shocked disbelief and dashed hopes killed me, but without missing a beat Ben cheerily suggested ice cream shakes and an afternoon at the park. They perked up pretty quickly.

At the park, spring had sprung and the Bradford Pears were picturesque, but there was a trash dumpster upwind so I couldn't get any good shots without Gus making a 'stinky face'.

Brenna and Gus ran off in two different directions, which made it harder for Ben and I to keep watch but it was exhilarating to witness the confidence and independence of out oldest two. Brenna hesitated a bit with the big wind-ie slide but when Gus made his way over to that side of the playground, he offered to assist her descent. He first suggested she get on his shoulders but after I made it clear that wasn't happening, they both settled on the traditional one-in-front-of-the-other approach. All it took was that one lesson from her big brother to make her reservations disappear. From then on she was all solo. And very proud of herself, saying
"I'm so bave and tong and tuff."
And modest too!
Well, she did look the part in her pink tutu, ruffled socks and flying eyeball tattoo on the inside of her arm.

Ben and I met two parents whom (whom, not who, right?) had experienced the exact same disappointed pouts as we had. They too planed on a trip to the zoo but decided it was just too crowded. One family had 3 children, all boys. Their oldest had Autism and was dressed in the brightest tie dyed shirt I'd ever seen. The other family had one precious, dog loving, brown haired little girl around 4 with Downs Syndrome. I'm ashamed to admit that people who are different used to make me a bit uncomfortable. Like so many others, I didn't know how to behave. While talking to their parent, do I acknowledge the situation, or completely ignore it? Do I only ask questions of the parents or do I engage the young one as well? Would that make them uncomfortable? Where's the happy medium? But today it was so different. I reveled in the ornery-ness of the older boy. How he critiqued Brenna as she played with her big bouncy ball, trying to represent the behavior of an Emperor Penguin.
"You're doing it wrong. They hold their eggs on their feet not between their knees. And really it's the daddy penguins that hold the eggs. You're a girl. She's doing it wrong, mother."
"Well someones seen Happy Feet!" I giggled. He glared at me and shrugged his shoulders. His mother and I just giggled harder.

I wish there was something I could share, some piece of wisdom I've learned, that could help people who are like I was, be more comfortable around 'us'. Even enjoy the refreshing differences. But it's just not some simple tid-bit of information that will make everything click. It's not a practice or philosophy. For me, it only comes from being immersed in this imperfect life to realize how perfect and normal it is. Well, not normal. But, Why Be Normal?

There was a big black shaggy dog being walked at the park and the little almond eyed girl wouldn't let go. She was attached, one way or another, the entire time we were there. Her dad talked about how her differences don't really matter. How he believes these kids are still essentially the same people they would be with or without any air quote disability. Maybe so. Or maybe they're more.

Were these families always there and we just didn't notice? Are we magnetically charged to attract each other now so we can sit and talk comfortably without having to worry about how the other is feeling.

We get our fair share of stoppers-by. While Ben sat with Garrett, little girls would run up and ask about his BAHA, his small ears, his eyes. We don't mind. So far, it's been innocent questions from people with a healthy curiosity. I think they were interested mostly just because little girls love babies. They want to fawn over him and tickle his fatty fat legs.























Garrett said mama on the 1st, crawled on the 5th and today he's cruising from one piece of furniture to another. NO! Stay a baby! Any tips on how to slow him down? I've heard about putting a brick on their head but I'm afraid that might damage the BAHA.

Earlier, We were all sitting on the floor when Gus leaned in and gently said "I love him. He's special to me." and I got all teary eyed, savoring the moment. Then Gus looked at me and said "Do you smell that?" So I sniffed. And gagged. He laughed and said "I burped."

Just before bed, Ben handed me a love poem he'd written about me.

It was a great day.

Gag me with a spoon, right?