Including Caleb
During his first year of preschool, Caleb received an invitation to attend his friend and classmate Jace's birthday party. Because it fell on a Sunday, I was going to decline so I would not miss church. Going to church is pretty much non-negotiable in our home. This time I had second thoughts.
"You know, Paul? This might be the only party Caleb is ever invited to by a healthy, 'normal' kid. I am taking him."
Paul agreed. One of my husband’s greatest fears is for people to ignore our son, and this family was including Caleb.
I felt grateful and honored, scared and nervous. I knew it would be strange and uncomfortable for me to be surrounded by healthy kids and their parents. We would be the "weird" ones, the ugly ducklings. I felt sad.
I went in spite of my sense of inferiority and held Caleb in my arms as he napped while the other children played in the toy room. He woke up after a while, and I put him down on the floor. He began to balance on his tummy as he usually does and smiled. While the other children did not pay much attention to Caleb, Jace came to check on him on and off throughout the couple of hours we were there, gently patting him on the back, or caressing his head.
"Let me know if he is overwhelming him," his mom said to me at one point.
"Don't worry. His brother IS overwhelming, and Caleb doesn't mind."
At 3 years of age children don't really play together, but next to each other. Jace and two little girls were playing with some plastic bugs on the floor when, just by chance, Caleb bumped into Jace while balancing, and Jace turned and gave him some of his toys.
"Jace..." one of the little girls called.
“I am playing with Caleb now," he replied.
There was my son, undoubtedly in his own little world, yet being included in Jace's. I am sure that at some level Caleb was aware of that and he liked it. I did.
I realized that day that inclusion is bi-directional. We, the parents of children with disabilities, have to make a big effort to include ourselves when it would be easier to hide to avoid the pain. Exclusion, by our own choice, is easier to bear sometimes.
That year, for the first time, we had a children's party for Caleb. I invited Jace and a few other kids. It was a mix of healthy, typical kids and children with disabilities. And I had a good time seeing Caleb balance on the floor and smile while the other children played.
"You know, Paul? This might be the only party Caleb is ever invited to by a healthy, 'normal' kid. I am taking him."
Paul agreed. One of my husband’s greatest fears is for people to ignore our son, and this family was including Caleb.
I felt grateful and honored, scared and nervous. I knew it would be strange and uncomfortable for me to be surrounded by healthy kids and their parents. We would be the "weird" ones, the ugly ducklings. I felt sad.
I went in spite of my sense of inferiority and held Caleb in my arms as he napped while the other children played in the toy room. He woke up after a while, and I put him down on the floor. He began to balance on his tummy as he usually does and smiled. While the other children did not pay much attention to Caleb, Jace came to check on him on and off throughout the couple of hours we were there, gently patting him on the back, or caressing his head.
"Let me know if he is overwhelming him," his mom said to me at one point.
"Don't worry. His brother IS overwhelming, and Caleb doesn't mind."
At 3 years of age children don't really play together, but next to each other. Jace and two little girls were playing with some plastic bugs on the floor when, just by chance, Caleb bumped into Jace while balancing, and Jace turned and gave him some of his toys.
"Jace..." one of the little girls called.
“I am playing with Caleb now," he replied.
There was my son, undoubtedly in his own little world, yet being included in Jace's. I am sure that at some level Caleb was aware of that and he liked it. I did.
I realized that day that inclusion is bi-directional. We, the parents of children with disabilities, have to make a big effort to include ourselves when it would be easier to hide to avoid the pain. Exclusion, by our own choice, is easier to bear sometimes.
That year, for the first time, we had a children's party for Caleb. I invited Jace and a few other kids. It was a mix of healthy, typical kids and children with disabilities. And I had a good time seeing Caleb balance on the floor and smile while the other children played.
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