What's Wrong?

First, let's discuss what's wrong with me blogging at 3:45 a.m. Many things. Insomnia seems to be the newest method by which my body likes to torture itself. So alas, after lying in bed for hours, I just give up. The first few hours come easily and then upon Jaxen's late night rendezvous, which usually begins around 1-2 a.m., I lie in bed thinking, tossing, and turning.

Tonight's thoughts revolved around a conversation I had with another mom. For the full picture, we have to flashback. Are you ready? Ten years ago, I was given this beautiful baby boy. Ten years ago I was thrilled to have him in my life. As odd as it may seem, Jeremy and I never really questioned Colin's health upon his birth. Shocking, I know. But we had been given this little man and he was ours and he was simply better than ANYTHING we had ever thought possible. He was perfect. Simply perfect. It wasn't until we started noticing small developmental issues like not holding himself upright well and eating and digestive issues that we questioned anything. Still, on more than one occasion as I walked through a store or sat waiting in line with him somewhere, another person would question me asking "what's wrong with him?" My response: "NOTHING." Simply put, he is perfect. He was perfect, he is perfect. He is Colin. Simply put. I refuse to answer that question with anything more.

So recently, Colin, after quite a long time of having his hair long, which hid the ear he has had reconstructed, decided to go short again. Mind you, the hair was not long for this purpose; he simply liked the style. Of course, the new cut inevitably put his most noticeable difference on more prominent display. I admit, I was nervous about the return to school for him. Not that the long hair kept him from having to deal with his issues, but I was sure that it helped alleviate the frequency of curiosity from the other kids. He returned home shortly after school began confirming my suspicions. "Everyone's asking me what happened to my ear," he says. "And what do you say," I ask. "Nothing." At first, I thought he meant he didn't respond to the question. To which I giggled and responded that curiosity would cause them to continue to ask, especially if he didn't respond. To which he promptly assured me, "No, I say NOTHING." To which I giggled again and responded "well, they still may continue to ask," and he asked why. I tried to equate it to another kid coming into school the next day with a broken leg being asked the same question and responding in the same manner. (I know, TERRIBLE comparison, but I'm doing my best here...it's a learning curve.) I said, "even if he said nothing, you would still be curious because, clearly, something happened, so you might continue to ask." Colin responded "no, I wouldn't. I would assume that if he said nothing he didn't want to talk about it and wouldn't ask again." Smart boy.

So, back to the conversation I had with the other mother today. At the start of boy scouts this week, the short hair brought on some similar conversations with some of the cubbies who don't attend Colin's school, and another mother shared the conversation she overheard. One of the boys asked Colin "what's wrong with your ear?" Colin's response: "What's wrong with your face?"

Okay, so I won't openly condone that retort in conversation with him. I silently cheered. Inside, I was jumping up and down and shaking my pom-poms. It's simply wrong to ask what is WRONG with a person who has a difference. Differences aren't WRONG. In anticipation of the difficult adolescent years, I have clearly not given this child the credit he deserves. I think I've been worrying about a whole lot of something that is clearly, NOTHING.