"You have a big tummy."
"You're feet are funny."
"You have a big boo boo on your leg."
Sadie has always noticed these differences, now she has the words to discuss them with me. I remember, from Ruby, that I need to handle these questions with care. While many parents would "hush" a child who points out some obvious difference in another person. I'm not good with that approach. When Sadie says these things she is just stating what she sees, she is not making a statement about my value, she is making a statement about my difference. That's OK. More than OK. I can be described out loud.
"Yes, I have a big tummy."
"Yes, my feet are different."
"Yes, there is a big scar on my leg."
She listened, was almost satisfied that the discussion was done, then asked, "Why?"
I didn't know which of her list of three that she was referring to ... but I launched into something that I'd tried with the Rubster.
"What's this?" I asked pointing to her nose, she loves this game and was immediately distracted, "That's my nose!"
"What's this?" I asked pointing to my nose, "That's your nose!"
"How can that be?" I asked her. I measured the length of my nose with my thumb and forefinger and then placed it on her face, mine being way, way, bigger than hers, "They can't both be noses, mine is bigger."
"No," she was adamant, she knows noses, "My nose" pointing to hers, "Your nose," pointing to mine.
"But mine is like this," again with the fingers, "and yours is like this."
"They are noses!! Same and different." She said, wrapping herself in her arms, as she does to state that she is finished.
"That's why," I said, "you and I are the same and different."
She twinkled, really, she did, "Big tummy, little tummy, same AND different."
We were done. She was satisfied.
So was I.
Tomorrow, Chicago, Disability Pride: Same And Different.