Play dates for kids with special needs are important…and often tricky. A few Sundays ago, Avery and I find ourselves at the local Chuck-E-Cheese with Avery’s buddy Jonathan, and Jonathan’s sister, mom, and dad, in addition to about 50-60 other adults, children, and employees.
Jonathan and Avery have been buddies since last year, and Avery has been pretty consistent in asking for a play date. Can Jonathan come over? Can I go over Jonathan’s? Can you ask Jonathan’s mom or dad when we can play together? The date is set. Sunday’s NBA schedule and post-church nap are sacrificed to appease my son and his homie. Hey, in this season of Lent, that’s the least I can offer, right? The boys are set with plenty of tokens and sent to play games as the adults find a booth to get better acquainted through conversation. Thankfully, I do conversation pretty easily. Me: Thanks for agreeing to come today. I’m glad the boys are finally able to get together. Mom: Yeah, Jonathan has been really bugging me to play with, Avery. Dad: It’s a shame the boys aren’t in the same class again this year. Jonathan’s parents have had some prior interaction with LaChan, and we know Jonathan is diagnosed with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). Like Avery, he is in an inclusion class staffed with both a general education and special education teacher. Conversation is smooth. The boys seem fine. My anxiety level drops. Trying to anticipate these interactions is a little stressful for me. The boys know each other and have their own social patterns, but I don’t really know these folks. There’s no reason to think it’s going to go badly, but you just don’t know. I'm just anxious that way, I guess. After 30-40 minutes, our conversation is becoming genuine, and I appreciate it. The proverbial “trading of stories” is happening. Special needs parents know how this goes. Me: So, what’s your experience been like with Jonathan’s caseworker and teachers? Dad: It’s been pretty good. We’re happy. They’ve been awesome with and for Jonathan. How about you? Me: Well, we had some challenges at the beginning of the year, but things are smoother now. I had to remind myself to be more of a help than a hindrance to them so they can support Avery well. Then it happened…it had to be a dream…or nightmare. A cute little girl, about 7 or 8 years old, is crying with an ice-pack on her arm. A woman – who I assume to be the girl’s mother – sends a young teenage boy into the jungle gym and gives him specific instructions: Go find the &#@%^$# who hurt your sister! Sitting in the booth, we stop breathing. We watch…fearfully, while trying to stay calm. Yet, my mind is running a full sprint. PLEASE, Lord, don’t let that child be Avery. Wait, Avery doesn’t bite. If he bit somebody it would be TOTALLY out of character. Was he threatened? JESUS BE A FENCE (and a mouth guard)!!! A manager has come to the area where we are seated and instructs all the children to come out of the jungle gym via the slide. As each child comes down the slide, the girl who was bit was ready to identify who assaulted her. The girl’s brother and (rightfully) angry mother stand with her, staring holes through each kid as they came down the slide. Avery comes down the slide. I’m holding my breath. She confirms Avery did not bite her. I exhale. I immediately tell Avery to come stand with Jonathan’s parents and me as we wait for Jonathan to come down the slide. He finally emerges. That’s him!!, the girl shouts and points. I stop breathing, again. Jonathan’s parents’ faces flush with color (and I suspect a bit of humiliation). Relief, sympathy, and anticipation fight for dominance in my head and heart. The next thing that happened was so emotionally charged, predictable in some ways, and unpredictable in other ways, that it makes absolutely NO sense. The exchange went something like this: Jonathan’s mom (to the mother and daughter, while visibly embarrassed): I am so sorry. I cannot believe he bit her. (to Jonathan): Jonathan, you CANNOT bite people! Why are you biting people?! Jonathan’s disposition is absolutely flat. He doesn’t look excited, remorseful, happy or sad, which likely made both mothers even more frustrated. This may be partly symptomatic of Jonathan’s diagnosis, though. Mother: Do you know that your son bit my daughter?! He can’t do that! He has to have some kinda consequence for doing stuff like that! Jonathan’s mom (trying to acknowledge mom’s feelings): I know. My son usually doesn’t do this kind of thing. I’m sorry. Do you know what happened in the gym? Did anything happen to my son? He has special needs… Mother (who is FURIOUS): Well, you need to drug him up or something because that’s just inappropriate!! I have to jump in here. Me (to mom, stunned): Wow! Is that necessary? These boys have special needs. That’s MAAAD disrespectful. Mom (to me): Well, she then she needs to put him in a cage and throw away the key. Me (to mom): You’re not even right for that. She storms off, still clearly upset for a variety of justified reasons. Jonathan’s parents are shaken. Avery is crying quietly, and none of us can tell how Jonathan is making sense of what just happened. I need to note, that at this point, Jonathan’s older sister has completely disconnected from the entire display. We are all actors on a stage now. Every Chuck-E-Cheese customer just bore witness to the unique tension for parents raising children with diagnosed differences, whose needs do not present physically but behaviorally, and who don’t dare to justify their kids’ inappropriate behavior but still need to protect them from hurt, but insensitive people. The kids are able to finish their play date, but things are different now. Avery let me know that the big brother who came to defend his sister used words towards Jonathan and not physical force. Thankfully, Avery was fine, at least physically. My feelings were injured, though. That mom’s anger was entirely justified. If a child bit Avery and pained him to tears I shudder at how LaChan would respond. *cue DMX – Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here!!*
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” That verse is found in the book of Psalms chapter 30. It’s an awesome reminder that while we have experiences that are really hard and painful, that we can have hope that things can get better. I’m relieved that the manager at Chuck-E-Cheese affirmed that while the episode was ugly, they were committed to ensuring all children – including special needs children – have an awesome experience. I thanked for her for that. I’m relieved that the mother of the girl eventually sent an apology for her behavior through the manager. I’m relieved that Jonathan’s mother and I have exchanged text messages about another play date in the coming months. I’m relieved that the day’s emotional injuries sustained by the girl and her mom, Jonathan and his family, and Avery and me, won’t prevent us from getting back in the game.
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AuthorI'm Mike. If you have an interest in mental health, family functioning, and disability advocacy, this blog may be of interest to you. Archives
January 2016
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