Kiss and Make Up

After the emotional drama of the other night, I got up the next morning not knowing what to expect. Tess had crept into our bed in the middle of the night, and when I woke up, she looked at me with one eye, not sure what my mood was. It's amazing how intuitive she is for a just-turned-four-year-old. I smiled and kissed her and she smiled back.

Going into Owen's room, I gently patted his back, "Come on, buddy, it's time to get up." He pulled the covers over his head. "I don't want to go to school," he said. Now, this is a kid who asks every night if he is going to school again tomorrow, he loves it that much. Not so today. That was when I knew that he totally understood what happened last night. The memory of it all had probably seeped into his dreams and woven itself around the lingering edges of sleep. I tried again. "Come on, Owen, it's school today. You get to ride the bus." He reluctantly pulled the covers back. I got him up and he got dressed. Tess came slowly down the hallway to his room. "Kiss and make up, you two," I said, and held my breath. Owen would not look at Tess, his eyes remained cast down. Tess went over to Owen, knelt down and said, "Good morning, Owen. Can I have a hug?" Owen raised his face and the hint of a smile was there. Then he opened his arms and they both fell the floor, hugging for a long time. Slowly I breathed out. The crisis was over.

That day, when I came home from work, I noticed something different. Tess was very attentive to Owen, and Owen was so happy to bask in the glow of her attention. She asked him to play a game, then showed him how she wanted to play it. They followed each other around, more so than I usual. I was so proud of Tess for taking the lead this time. This was her way of making it up to Owen. And Owen was happy.

I know I can't keep the hurt away from my children, and I know this is how they will learn, and grow. Sometimes it is the pain that teaches us the lesson and the healing that allows us to go on. I am not so afraid for Owen anymore, because I know that he will adjust. And he understands, that is what hit me the most. So often, people want to label kids with Down syndrome as slow, or retarded, and they are not. We dismiss their ability to embrace a wide range of emotions, not just happiness. How many times have I heard that "they are such happy kids"? I took something away from that experience. I learned that my son will experience as much of life as everyone else. He won't be president, or a rocket scientist, or cure cancer, but he will have a good life. And, as Henry David Thoreau said, "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."