sad now. Harvey Korman just died. I might have to go stand in Heddy Lamar's footprints this weekend.

Hedley!

Harumph!

I really don't mind if I bump into a kid somewhere and she...says stuff about my chair. In recent years, though, although the accidental "OMG, cripple!" sightings have gotten less...dramatic, as kids see more of "us" at school or wherever, which I think "Yay!" about for all sorts of reasons, there's kind of a new thing developing which I like less. There seems to be this new thing with certain well-read parents that there are conversations which ought to be had, and so I'm often a springboard for, like, The Crip Conversation. Which somehow makes me twitchy, like I'm on a list of Formative Moments or something, and I didn't prepare, or anything. It's weirder too because that's a conversation completely led by the parents: "Oh, um, Snotleigh was just curious about your chair," when that was not the vibe I really get from from little S. herself. It's like they are crossing off Broken People are Really Okay too and they are good to go till she sees the neighbor kid's penis.(edited to put in "kid" so it's not such a heavy context) Somehow it bugs me to be instructive.

Somehow it bugs me to be instructive.

Because it's simultaneously dehumanizing as well oddly this weird pedestal place?

Liv's speech therapist brought over some teeny, Little Tikes doll house toys and people for her therapy session. She pulled one of the dolls out of the bag and realized it had a leg missing. She said she didn't realize it was broken but when she dug all the toys out, she found a wheel chair toy. Liv put the doll in the chair without any prompting and pushed it around the living room floor.

My kids are going to say embarrassing things because they're kids. I'm still remember Owen's yell of "Wake up, Grandma!" at her funeral and feel embarrassed, even though it wasn't unreasonable behavior for a 3 year old.

We just can't possibly educate and prepare them for every individual difference in humans, which is sort of cool when you think about it.

ErikaJ is almost me. Just substitute crutches for chair.

So you're saying you're not a living disability diorama, but actually a person? Huh. Well in that case, I guess I can see why it would bug.

When I was Em's age or thereabouts, I went up to a black woman carrying a baby on the bus and excitedly told her "I have a chocolate baby too!" because I had a black baby doll at home. I'm not sure my mother ever recovered from that one.

One of the things that always strikes me about you o_a is that when I think of you the crutches are the thing that define you the least in my mind. It's always been that way.

Owen's yell of "Wake up, Grandma!" at her funeral

Oh, that makes me want to futz with his hair and kiss him on the forehead.