Thursday, February 22, 2007

another Chance encounter

Joe-Henry, future President of the United States, got off the bus today, looking at his shoes. I could tell that something was wrong the minute I saw his face. As soon as the bus pulled away, he gave me a hug and said "Mom, Chance was mean to me on the bus again. He kept repeating what I was saying, and was teasing me about my big finger." This story has a happy ending, but I have to do a little venting here.

As I've written before, my son was born with a rare disorder called Klippel-Trenaunay Syndrome. His case is fairly mild, and we consider ourselves incredibly blessed and lucky. If all we have to deal with is a few stares and rude comments, well, so be it. But still. When someone teases your kid about anything, it's very hard to keep any mama lion from roaring.

This is the second time this little boy has teased Joe-Henry, and it marks the first time that any child has teased him about his k-t. Kids have asked questions, and some have stared and whispered to their moms, but no child has ever been outright cruel. I want to meet this little boy. In a dark alley. All I could think to say to Joe-Henry was "It sounds like Chance doesn't hear any kind words at home. He doesn't seem to have anything nice to say at all. Just ignore him - he's not worth your time." What I didn't say was "This kid is an inbred peckerhead little shit meany meanpants." But it was on the tip of my tongue.

As I said, this story has a happy ending. After I told Joe-Henry to ignore him, he said, "I did Mom. And you know what? Desmond told him to knock it off. He said I was just born that way, and he needs to be quiet or he'll tell a grown up." If you've been reading this blog, you know that I've been a little worried about Joe-Henry missing his LA friends, and not really finding any pals here yet. But there he was. A friend on the bus.

Chance doesn't get any more space here, because I heart Desmond.

1 comment:

suttonhoo said...

I heart him too. gorgeous story. laughter, tears, chills -- the whole nine yards.