Yesterday as we were walking home the grandboys stopped in front of a new holistic medicine clinic that recently opened. There's been a younger man working there on and off the past couple of months...he's passed by our house many times pushing a stroller so I know he lives somewhere in our neighborhood. It wasn't until last week that I realized the little boy in his stroller is Down's Syndrome; I had never been close enough or outside when they'd passed by before to notice. But yesterday he was moving a piece of furniture on a dolly to the back of the house and his truck was parked on the curbside with his little boy strapped in to his carseat inside with the doors locked. His movements attracted Dylan, who went over to the truck to peer inside. At first the little boy stared at Dylan, then gave a tentative smile and Dylan said to him, "Hi there, little baby!" But when the toddler realized Dylan was a stranger his face screwed up and he began to fret. Dylan's little heart melted and he crooned to him, "Don't cry, little baby. It's ok!" in the same voice he uses when he talks to the feral kittens thru our living room windows.
In the eyes of a child, there is no such thing as a disability. A crying baby is a crying baby. No labels attached. Just the desire to stop the tears.