I Have a Lot to Learn

Every week at therapy, we park in the exact same spot, right next to a disabled parking space. Ja.son, who is a sign reading maniac, tells me what on that sign once we park and again as we leave every single time we're there.

"Handicap parking, mom. We need to save that space for someone in a wheelchair," he said for what seemed like the millionth time.

To say he may be obsessed with these signs is an understatement. He looks for other handicap parking signs while we are out around town, never failing to point at least one out in every parking lot we enter. He's even started incorporating these parking spaces into his endless hours of Hot Wheels play.

"Yes, we do, Jay." I told him like I always did as I pulled into our regular spot.

Usually, that is where the conversation would end. This afternoon, though, our talk took a slightly different turn.

"Mom, when I get home I'm putting my handicap parking spaces at the end of the parking lot so my Honda Pilot can park right up front."

"Well, Jay, disabled parking spaces are usually the spots closest to the doors of the building."

"Why?"

"If someone has a hard time walking, the spaces let the person park closer to the door of the building. That way, the person doesn't have to walk as far to go inside the business."

"Well, why don't we park there then? I can't walk."

Oh. My. God. My heart dropped and shattered at my feet. The water bottle that was headed toward my mouth at that moment literally stopped midair, my mouth agape. My head began to pound as I struggled for something to say.

My first instinct was to change the subject--I so did not want to have that conversation yet. He remembers everything I've ever said...if I misstepped, how would I ever be able to make my words right? I knew that what I said in that very critical moment would become part of the foundation for how he feels about his own abilities, and the weight of that responsibility was heavy on my heart.

How could I let him know it was alright for him to need a disabled parking space when I was still not sure I was alright with the idea of him (both of them) needing it?

The seconds ticked. After what seemed like ages, he said, "Is it because I can walk with my walker?"

"Babe, mommy and daddy carry you if you or Sh.awn get tired. Plus, you two are getting stronger every day and are getting so good at using your walkers. To be honest, I didn't think we needed to park in a disabled parking space. What do you think about it?"

He thought for a bit and mulled it all over. "I don't think we need to park in one right now, but it would be neat to be able to park close to Disneyland." With that, he was done talking and ready to go in to therapy.

~~~

For him it was over, but I can't get what he said out of my head. I've replayed it over and over again trying to decide what I could have/should have done differently. I keep coming back to the same idea: I don't know whether what I said was the "right" thing or not, but I do know I am so proud of my boy. To him, things just are what they are. So he needs a walker. Who cares? So what if he needs to use a disabled parking space? It's no big deal to him. 

Why do I let it be?

If he can be comfortable with his body and his walker and using disabled parking, why do I find myself still struggling?

I have a lot to learn.
 

But if I think about it, when it comes to this amazingly insightful boy I have, I must be doing something right.