A moment I can’t forget is when a woman said, no, no do not sit next to him, dear move away. Her words hurt me deeply. And I feel very bad. We were deciding to a meet with Santa in his cave. The room was beautiful, decorated with a snowman, sparkly lights and Christmas music.
I was a wonderful space for my little boy. At that moment, we had him judge for autism. I knew he was on the autism spectrum, and I accepted that. Just like any other child, he was excited to meet Santa. My son, Riley, loves lights.
That is what brought him joy that day. His expression brightened at each Christmas tree, every reindeer, and all the lights he encountered.
When Riley gets excited, he waves his arms, jumps up and down, hums, and makes happy noises. He cannot speak, so this is his way to show his joy. Watching him do this, I feel that we are just like a normal happy family that collects the happy moments together.
However, the more Riley shouted and moved wildly, the more eyes were on him. All the attention was on my happy 2 years old boy, who was just happy in his excitement.
It was deeply touching moments for him. I recognized his autism, yet that did not alleviate the hurt within me. I attempted to remain resilient for him.
I will never forget the look of disgust that the woman gave Riley. As we entered Santa’s waiting area, Riley saw a seat and sat there. He kept flapping his hands and humming, happy in his own special way. A littl girl approached and seated him.
She greeted me. Riley did not notice people, but this time he looked at her and gave the biggest and happiest smile. His hands flapped, and he squealed with joy. His hands waved, and he shrieked. He was greeting in his own good manner.
My heart was so filled. I saw that the little girl’s mother warned her. She replied, “No, no, don’t sit near him, sweetheart, step aside,” and pulled her daughter away.
As they walked away, she said to me, “Maybe you should try the special Santa’s, the ones for kids like him.” The little girl waved goodbye to us. That day really hurt my heart. That woman destroyed our important moment.
She instructed her child that kids like mine are “strange” or “bad.” However, my son is just like every other kid; he weeps when he is in pain, adores his mother, giggles when tickled, and enjoys dancing.
That young girl, however, perceived no distinction. She spotted a friend. She could teach her mother about love, acceptance, and that being different is not bad, it is just being unique.
Even after four years, this remains one of the most difficult memories I carry as a mother. Disability brings judgment, looks, remarks, and hard times.
You cultivate resilience and focus on what matters. If I could make one wish, it would be for no other parent to experience what I went through that day.
Autism sets my son apart, but being different is not negative. It is incredible. And I know that young girl comprehended that as well.
