Prepared To Save The World

I am accused by my friends of being a wee bit obsessed by all things disability. Apparently (because I don't see it) this obsession began long before my own disability and stemmed from my work with those with intellectual disabilities. While I do seek out information about disability and disability culture, it simply makes sense to me. How can you not be interested in knowing more about the people you work with, spend time with and (um) earn a living off of. So I have a stack of books about disability or with characters with disabilities. I do web searches on the disability pride movement. I subscribe to the concept of and attempt to contribute to 'disability community'.

While doing this a while ago I read an article on Superheros with Disabilities. The article must not have made much of an impression because for the life of me I can't remember many of the caped cripples listed, other than the wheelchair guy in X-men. I don't even remember the intent of the article, but I do remember reading it and it's filed away in neurons that I no longer have access to, probably nuzzled beside 'Grad Night'.

I never thought that I'd join that esteemed list of Superheros, but it seems that I do have a 'Superhero' power. I discovered it yesterday. Mike and Marissa and Ruby came to visit for Easter and the moment they arrived the quiet of the apartment changed into the sounds of family and feast. For the first time on a visit Ruby did not make strange with us at all. She came right over for 'hellos' and for conversation. She's at the age where what just happened is the most important thing in the world. When she talks on the phone she comes on with 'I brushed my teeth' or 'I eat supper' or 'I go shopping'. So she came over and said, 'I visit Dave and Joe.'

After an hour or so, just moments before I discovered my superpower, she came over to show me her pet dog, which is a minature that is kept in a little metal box attached to her belt. She took it out and held it up to me. I looked at it and was amazed that she could see 'dog' in it at all. Then she took a tiny finger and pointed at the little brown stub tail and said, 'Poo'. She said this with a seriousness that was hysterical.

I took the little creature and sniffed at it's tale and said, 'Ooooooo stinky poo'. She grinned. I then noticed Joe in the kitchen and said to Ruby, go wipe the poo on Joe's shirt. She looked at me shocked. I grinned. She grinned back. She glanced into the kitchen, mischief all over her face. She was a ninja on tiptoe into the kitchen. She sprang on Joe and rubbed the dog's bottom down his shirt. Joe, having heard our conversation, reacted appropriately with horror at having dog poo on his shirt. Ruby thought this was so funny that she collapsed against the cupboard, held her stomach and laughed.

We played 'dog poo on the shirt' for the next half hour, it's a game that is surprisingly fun to play. But I discovered that I may be in a wheelchair but I have the power to make a 2 and a half year old double over in glee.

A superpower indeed.

So if the world is ever in danger from mutant children, I know just the 'fart joke' that could save the world.

I expect to hear from CSIS.