I Used To Feel Sorry For Parents Like Me

There was a concert video my daughter watched as a preschooler that I remember vividly. In it, the colorful group sang about teddy bears and bedtimes.

It was adorable.

In the crowd of four and five year olds, one kid stuck out. She must have been ten or eleven years old at the time. She stood a full head taller than most of the kids.

It was obvious that this child had special needs and, as a parent without a special needs child at the time, my brain worked up all sorts of thoughts and questions.

Of course, I felt sad. After all, think about this poor girl and her poor parents. Here she was, at an age when most kids have outgrown entertainment like this. Yet, she was still dancing along to the music.

None of the other children seemed to notice, but I did from my couch. I wondered what the parents must have felt like driving over and how they explained it to people in their lives. To me, a situation like this was truly heartbreaking.

I had a million questions I would want to ask that kid’s parents, but knew I never would, if given the opportunity. It felt too taboo. It felt too invasive. It felt, well, just wrong.

Fast forward a decade and a half to this past weekend. I took my non-verbal 15-year-old to see a sensory showing of the Paw Patrol movie.

Any questions?

Seriously, I open the floor. Nothing feels taboo. Nothing feels invasive. For me and Lucas, this felt, well, just right.

The truth is that there aren’t a lot of “sensory-friendly” movies out here on Long Island, so we take what we can get. It was either this movie or, well, nothing. Spiderman and some sheep cartoon also had autism-friendly days. But there were none scheduled anytime soon.

Firefighting Puppies it was, then.

You’re probably thinking that Lucas likes this cartoon, right? This is a post about age-appropriate entertainment?

Nah.

Lucas has no idea who they are. He has his set forms of entertainment. Certain Sesame Street episodes, Raffi concerts, and Wiggle performances all make his playlist. Anything else might as well be local news.

Lucas likes what Lucas likes. Paw Patrol is not a part of that.

Still, we went. This was about practice. It was about getting him into the community, buying him some popcorn, and letting my boy experience a part of life that he doesn’t often get to participate in.

On the drive over, I didn’t think about the fact that this film was for people younger than my son. It didn’t matter. In fact, I didn’t even consider the age disparity until we were pulling into the parking lot.

To say it was a non-issue would be an understatement.

After all these years, I finally had my answer to that question I pondered while watching that concert with my daughter. The drive over for that family? It was probably fine.

The theater was packed with kids who were substantially younger than my boy. After all, this was a kids’ movie. Yet, here I was with this hairy-legged linebacker, reclined and enjoying the morning. To someone looking from the outside in, much like I did with that concert video, we stuck out like a sore thumb.

At this point, you probably expect me to tell you how no one noticed Lucas or looked in his direction.

Truth? I have no idea.

Another aspect of raising a son like mine that people don’t realize is that I don’t care what other people do. I don’t look. I don’t notice. I don’t care. As long as you don’t gawk or approach us, you might as well be furniture.

My main focus is on Lucas. It always is.

There was nothing sad about our Saturday at the movies.

Years ago, from a third-party perspective, I had so many misconceptions of what life was like for a parent like me. I was stuck in the mentality that we’re all constantly grieving a life that our child won’t have.

I’m not.

That ended eons ago.

This is my son. He loves the things he loves and he deserves to be a part of everything. After all, everyone else does.

Think about it. Disney adults? 50-year-old toy collectors? Grown-up cosplayers at Comic-Con? They’re all allowed to do the things they love. Why should I be embarrassed for my son to do the same?

At some point, we decided there were ages when people were supposed to stop enjoying certain things. I don’t know why Lucas should have to live by that rule.

To hold my boy back from events, activities, or toys he loves because someone who doesn’t know us might be sad when observing it is insane. If seeing my son enjoying his day makes you sad, you’ve got some things to work through.

I’m happy to report that Lucas and I made it through the entire show. Sure, we both swiped away on our devices for a lot of it, but he had a great time. Smiles, popcorn, and even a Care Bear courtesy of his crane-game-king Dad made for an amazing time.