On Sunday I had my first experience with someone saying unkind things about Down syndrome and my son. It was the type of thing where I know that the kid (he’s twelve) who said what he said did so out of ignorance and cockiness. He might have even been trying to impress the girl next to her, which shows how immature he is. Even so, it really hurt. It hurt worse than I thought it would. I realized I’m not ready for anyone to imply that my son is less than anyone else, that he’s weird, that he’s alien-like, that he’s different. I can’t handle it yet.

It happened during the Sunday School class that I teach (it’s a tough crowd, that class), and afterward I pulled the kid aside, alone, and told him that he needs to be more respectful and what he said is completely inappropriate. Nonetheless, I couldn’t hold back my tears afterwards.

I guess eventually I’ll have it together enough that other people’s comments won’t phase me. But I’m still adjusting to Wesley’s Down syndrome myself. Most adults are understanding; kids are another story. It’s probably no coincidence that a month before Wes was born John gave me a priesthood blessing in which I specifically remember being told that I needed to have patience, both with my kids and with the people who interact with my kids. It didn’t mean much to me at the time, but now I can really see the wisdom and reality in those words.

On a brighter note, here’s a picture of Wes asleep in my arms.