the very small, very amazing thing that happened

So, I mentioned the amazing thing that happened last weekend. We were already having an amazing weekend with a trip to the beach with my aunt and uncle and a long weekend visit from my sister Kaitlyn, who never fails to make E, A, and K smile. OK, she makes them guffaw.  And I love watching it.  And I'm pretty sure she's met her match in snugglers.  Little brother loves. to. snuggle. And so does Kait.

E started school this week and we are so proud of our almost five year old, who works hard to hide the fact that school still makes her feel a little unsure of herself. "I'm not shy, Mama!" she announced after I tried to explain to her teacher why we were getting a better view of her back than her cute little face during first introductions. I should know better.  I was not shy either.  I just had an endless fascination with the ties on my shoes. I won't make the mistake of suggesting it again, even if it might be just a little bit true.

I never expected to love picking her up so much at the end of the morning.  I see this little body wiggling in the line trying to catch a glimpse of her mama.  "Yep, that's me.  I belong to that one," I want to say to anyone listening.   Her face lights up when she catches a glimpse of me.  What did I ever do to deserve that million dollar smile?  Have you seen her smile? It's electrifying.

It's just as much fun, though, having time with the little ones.  It's still very new, and the charm hasn't worn off yet. We color, play cars, and chat without the big sister there to direct every little detail as she is inclined to do. A's personality blooms when she's given the space to make her own choices and choose her own words.  Turns out, she's pretty funny. She has a quick wit, even at two.

So back to the teeny little moment that still has me thinking and thinking and thinking some more.  E has a little boy in her class whose sister has Down syndrome.  Now you may think this is insignificant in and of itself, and maybe it is.  But let me tell you what happened.

Sunday, we had been at the open house maybe fifteen minutes before we noticed her.  She was sitting on the floor near the imaginative play station, shoving plastic food in her mouth like it was her mission in life.  I noticed the way she was sitting, the way she clapped her hands, and then I took in her other features--almond shaped eyes, wide grin, solid legs and arms, and I just knew.  I wanted to shout across the room to Mark, but instead I shot my eyes over to where he was standing, just as he noticed her, too.  The look of recognition and joy was all I needed. I love that I caught that moment. I don't think I'll ever forget it. A huge smile that filled his whole face. Because she reminded us of K. Because she was beautiful. Because she was crawling on her elbows and knees army-style and she was getting around just fine. Because her dad held her like she was the most precious thing in his world. Because she held his face in her two hands and uttered the same syllable K utters when he's happy. "Waaaaaah," she said.  And I didn't even have to turn around to know it was her.

Mark and I shamelessly watched this family who seemed perfectly adjusted and happy. We honed in on the way others in the room reacted to the little girl. Guess what? They treated her just like they would treat any other adorable little two year old girl.  And why wouldn't they?

As we were leaving the classroom to go check out the playground, I whispered to Mark, "Did you see that?" I already knew the answer.

"Do you think she has it?" he asked. "I mean, I thought so, but I wasn't totally sure and I didn't want to assume." We were like little kids conspiring on the playground.

"Oh, without a doubt. Isn't it great? Obviously, E was meant to come here. I really want to talk to her parents. But I don't know how to bring it up. I don't want to be awkward."

And then there they were in front of us, and I decided to just go for it.

"Hi," I began, "We met the other night but I've forgotten your name." This much was true.

"Hi again! It's Alison."

"Nice to see you, and who is this little girl?" I asked trying to be nonchalant and failing. Alison introduced us to her daughter and we exchanged small talk.  She asked if we had other kids besides E and I replied, "Yes, we have a two year old daughter and a seven month old son at home."

"Wow, you're busy!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's very busy," I replied, "And our son has Down syndrome." So smooth. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I had time to think about stopping them.

Alison grinned from ear to ear, "Really?" she exclaimed, "That's great." We talked for awhile longer all the while sporting ridiculous I'm so happy to meet you I could burst grins on our faces.  It was a first connection for both of us, the first time we had met another family with a child with Down syndrome.

At one point, Allison said to us, "You know she's the best thing that ever happened to us."

"She is," her husband spoke up.

"Really?" I asked. "Really?"

"Truly," she said.  "I'm not just saying that. We are a different family. Our lives are so much better."

"Thank you," I blurted. "Because I'm not there yet." And there it was. I don't know why I confessed it to a near stranger, except that I knew she would understand. And she did.

"I know," she said. "It's OK."

In the end we were the last ones on the playground. It was getting dark. We had shared our "finding out" stories and our stories about being treated differently in public. We decided we'd have to get together and talk more sometime. When we left, I could have hugged her and her daughter and her husband.  I wanted to hug their son, too, just for being there on the playground with E. Because it made her experience as a big sister to K normal instead of unique.

Later I told E about the family we met and about the boy in her class whose sister has Down syndrome. She seemed intrigued and asked a few questions and that was the end of it.  When I dropped E off at school the first morning, Alison spotted us across the room and smiled as huge as we had when we first saw her little girl.  "Hello there," she crooned to K, taking his hand and shaking it.  Later when I picked up E from school, I asked her if she had gotten to know anyone in her class. "Yep," she replied.  She had gotten to know the boy with a sister like K. All I could do was smile.