To the Woman Who Didn’t Include My Son Because He’s ‘Different’


To the lady who told me my son couldn’t be included because he was “different” than the kids in our community:

There are so many things I wish I could show you about my son.

I wish you could hear his infectious giggle, his tiny, squeaky voice starting to blossom and his deep bear growl he learned from his daddy.

I wish you could see the way his big blue eyes light up when he is excited, the way he bobs his head and bum when “dancing” to music and the way he runs to my husband when he gets home from work.

I wish you could smell the flowers he picks, the goop he squishes, and the freshness of his baby clothes.

I wish you could cuddle his warm body at night, tickle his cute little toes in the morning, and wash his delicious, slippery body after a busy day.

I wish you could witness the leaps and gains he has made that leave us, his parents, breathless.

I wish that love was palpable, because if it were, maybe you could feel the tremendous love we have for him.

I think he sounds like any typical 2-year-old. I know he is more amazing than any 2-year-old (though I may be biased on this one), and I wish you thought this, too.

I wish you would consider my son’s future when you think of him.

I hope to one day hear him singing the ABCs, reading at night with his daddy and reciting the Torah with all the confidence of a 13-year-old at his bar mitzvah.

I hope to one day see him playing with his friends, reaching out and helping those in need and dancing (hopefully with more coordination) with incredible happiness at his own wedding.

I hope to one day smell dirt on his clothes from a day well spent, cookies drafting through the house as he eats a snack, and the fresh air outside as he opens the door, coming home from school.

I hope to one day put Band-Aids on scraped knees, give hugs and kisses when needed most and to hold his own babies when the time comes.

I hope to continually be amazed by this gift I call my son.

I hope the world will be more accepting, because if it is, he has all the more potential to succeed.

I think these hopes are realistic, and I know more than anyone how much he can do (more than one can ever imagine). I hope you will see this, too.

I wish for oh so many things.

I wish you could hear his determination as he fights for what he wants (well, maybe with less volume).

I hope one day you will listen to that voice, and help him reach his goals.

I wish you could see how hard he works when he has to learn new things.

I hope one day you will see that potential, and shift focus from his “flaws.”

I wish you could feel his pureness, which radiates from within.

I hope one day you will help elevate that pureness into something great.

I wish you could also include our miracle when making play dates for your kids (AKA future friends).

I hope one day they will learn respect and accept him as he is (perfect).

I wish I didn’t have to write this, for many do believe in him.

I hope it makes a difference. My son may be different (but who isn’t?), things may not come as easily for him as they do for you, but when he puts his mind to it, just watch what he will do.

I think we can all make a difference.

I know he can do anything. The question is, do you?

The Mighty is asking the following: Can you describe the moment someone changed the way you think about a disability or disease? If you’d like to participate, please send a blog post to [email protected] Please include a photo for the piece, a photo of yourself and 1-2 sentence bio.

Want to end the stigma around disability? Like us on Facebook.

And sign up for what we hope will be your favorite thing to read at night.


Find this story helpful? Share it with someone you care about.