Perspective From a 3 Year Old

Sometimes my girls give me a big perspective check. Tonight was one of those times...

It was unseasonably warm for mid-October so we decided to bring the girls to our favorite outdoor restaurant on the beach for what would probably be the last time this year. It was beautiful. We were waiting for our food when another family sat down at the table next to us.

I saw the mother push her daughter in a large stroller-wheelchair hybrid and sit down at the table. The daughter was probably in her late teens or older and the mother was much older than me. The mother quietly talked to her daughter while the daughter moved her body and used her voice in response but with little control. It was clear that she lived with severe cognitive and physical disabilities. The mother tenderly kissed her daughter's palm over and over. It was clear that this is profound love that any disability could not diminish.

I caught the mother's eye and smiled. She smiled back. I wanted to acknowledge her and her daughter, Mom to Mom, without ignoring or prying. It was apparent how different our lives were and our only similarities were the love for our daughter and this one dinner.

I felt awkward so I went back to talking to my girls. Trying to distract them or myself. Probably both. The girls, had continued to listen to the daughter and by this time Addi had turned around fully in her chair. Enraptured. I was about to tell her not to stare, that it wasn't kind.

That is when she giggled, a giggle so sweet and joy filled. My heart stopped. My initial reactions were panic, fear and shame. Was my child teasing someone because they were different? What would her mother think? How should I react? Where was Eric with the food to help me?! I heard but didn't understand.

I will be forever thankful that I asked Addi why she laughed.  She simply replied "I just love her sounds! She is so fun!" When she saw that I was taken aback she said "Mom, I was just looking at friends" and went back to smiling at the girl. Her friend.

Ashamed, I quickly realized that I was the one who was acting differently. If this Mom had a daughter without disabilities, I would have felt and acted different. Addi, on the other hand, would not have. I had been too caught up in my own insecurities and awkwardness and desire to teach my girls to love and see value in others. In this, I failed to see the simple truth that my dear girl already knew these things.

Childhood joy and wonder are incredible gifts. They know no boundaries or awkwardness or fear. They allow my girls to see things as they truly are. Simply. Clearly. In ways that I often can not. I need to believe in these things. In laughter that isn't mocking, joy in beautiful sounds I can't understand and instant love for fun friends.

Proud is an understatement in how I feel about my beautiful girl. Beautiful on the inside, where it matters.