Dancing Elmo

I was at Target last night, wading through the Halloween costume aisle, looking in vain for a skeleton costume when I heard a bit of a commotion around the corner. A man who looked to be about 30 was making some noise, babbling...his mannerisms made it clear that he was handicapped. The noise got louder as he approached the toy aisle, and he stopped in front of an end cap that had dancing Elmos on display.

He got very excited at that point, and his companions tried to shush him a bit, but Elmo was just too much for the guy and he started dancing and singing right along with the furry little red thing in the box. Seeing the joy on his face, I couldn't help but smile. Obviously his mentality was that of a child, and to see such innocence in a 200 pound man with a 5 o'clock shadow was powerful. Good for him for being happy in his own little world.

Of course the smile I had didn't last long. I looked around and saw the other shoppers staring, some pointing, a few even laughing at this disabled man who was causing a minor scene in the toy aisle. My mind immediately wandered to my Andrew, who is autistic, largely non verbal, and considered handicapped by society's standards, though I still can't bring myself to call him "handicapped" even 6 years after he was diagnosed. He is just Andrew. My baby. If anyone ever called him "handicapped" in front of me, I'd probably punch them. If I ever saw anybody reacting to him as these shoppers were reacting to the Elmo guy, I really can't even attempt to gauge the potential violence of my reaction.

I often think of what Andrew will be like when he's 30. Will he be like the man I saw at Target, dancing and singing with a stuffed Elmo doll? Will he draw the same stares? Will people laugh at him? So there I stood, with a Halloween mask in my hand, crying like an idiot.

My poor baby. He doesn't deserve that kind of bullshit ignorant reaction. It's not his fault that he is the way he is. It's not fair that I can't somehow make the world understand so as to spare him the cruel reactions of the ignorant few.

I'm fairly convinced that the Elmo guy was completely oblivious to the assholes that surrounded him, and for that I was thankful. Nobody rained on his parade. Nobody made him feel like he was a freak. All he knew was that there was this big red toy on the end cap that totally ROCKED and that he got to play with it for a few minutes.

Elmo Guy: 1 Assholes: 0

I hope my Andrew, if he is functioning at a similar level when he's 30, is so happy and content that he won't realize how mean people can be, but I have a feeling we won't be so lucky.