Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The Ride Home

Today was unique in that BD and I didn't carpool. Also, I got to drive the nicer car. The one with satellite radio. That really, really helps with the commute.

And my swag. I am much more fly when I drive the car. It's been scientifically proven.

Before I got in the car this afternoon to head home, I saw that my friend had mentioned on Facebook that one of Playette's favorite shows was acknowledging Down Syndrome Awareness Month. I made a mental note to turn to Kid's Place Live as soon as I started my drive.

It doesn't bug me to listen to that station, even when Playette's not around. I've caught myself on a few occasions singing along before I realized that I, as an adult, did not have to listen to "Crayola Doesn't Make a Color for Your Eyes" for the 1700th time. Even when I have the option to switch it off, I sometimes stick around because, honestly, I kinda like it. Or, at least, I'm not horribly annoyed.

With that said, I was really anticipating hearing what the host had to say today of all days.

Right after I started the car, I heard her ask for callers who knew someone with Ds. Maybe a sibling? A friend? Or even yourself? What could you share with the audience about that person?

I figured I had a few minutes before the responses started coming in, so I switched to something more adult-friendly for a bit.

When I came back, I heard a little girl's voice. She was talking about her brothers. One of them with Ds.

What was most interesting to me about this scenario was that I recognized their names. And then I recognized hers. She was the daughter of my friend several states away. The friend whose announcement led me to turn to the show in the first place.

This little girl talked about what her older brother liked for a few moments and then she said something that has stuck with me all evening:

"He's the same and we love him."

I think that's what it's all about, peeps.

We're the same in that we're all unique. Every one of us brings something to the table of life. Whether one has 46 or 47, their life matters.

And we all need people to love us.

Thank you, Kit.


Not a Perfect Mom said...

such wise words...
we all need to listen to the little ones...