Friday, April 15, 2005
It's a Cruel Day in the Neighborhood
Christopher and I had a "man's night out" yesterday. It was a total blast. Really a fun time. He's so cute and curious and loving. It's hard to believe such a fun time came our way because of the insensitivity of another family in our neighborhood.
The family next door to us had a birthday party for their two children, both boys. It was at our local Chuck E. Cheese's, a favorite hangout for Christopher. One of the boys is older than Christopher, and the other is his exact age. The problem that we had is that of the four children in our family who are no-brainers to invite to the party (Isaac is too old and Aidan is too young), only three were asked. Christopher was excluded.
This is the latest incident in a pattern that we've seen coming for a while. Earlier this year, we noticed that the other kids in the neighborhood (and some of those in our family) were deliberately excluding Christopher from play. Some were being very upfront about it, making it a cruel tease to tell him that "I'm not going to play with you." Others just excluded him silently. The other night at a friend's house, Christopher was practically begging one of the children to play with him, only to be completely ignored in favor of, of all things, a chess game between two of the older children. We saw him becoming the butt of jokes and cruel mocking for his behavioral problems. We saw him in the neighbor's yard by himself asking if the little boy who lives there would "come out and play with me." (The answer was no.)
The most gut wrenching of all is that Christopher has grown into the knowledge of the pain of his rejection. For the first time this Spring, Rita had to hold him while he cried and asked, "Why won't anyone play with me?"
I've been hurting for this kid for 5 years, and the hits keep coming. Of course, my pain is nothing compared to the bitter hurt that Christopher is feeling.
So, when the birthday party invitation came and only three names were on it (after all, we couldn't have the weird, special needs kid ruin anyone's good time), I made up my mind that this was not going to be about Christopher being rejected. I can't shield him from everything, but I can protect him from this pain. So, I came up with a Chris' night out with Dad. I announced it excitedly and told him that we were going to have a blast. He believed me, and I didn't hear one word of remorse over his birthday party rejection.
Our first stop was an exotic pet store. Olivia's gerbils had had babies again, and they needed a new home. We delivered them in a large box and then set out to look at the bizarre animals. Chris had a great time. He spent a while in the fish area looking for a clown fish so that he could see "Nemo." He wanted to scare the birds to see them jump around their cages. (I told him to stop it.) We admired the snakes and lizards. Although he gave way to fear when we looked in on the tarantulas and scorpions, he screwed up his nerve, and we went back for another look. He handled it much better the second time around. We talked about his desire to have pets of his own. He said that he wants some gerbils like Liv has.
We left and went to the ice cream shop down the road. We each got a flurry, buttoned our wind breakers against the chilly air, and happily devoured the first ice cream of the season. I thought about the promise that this year would hold. The fun times ahead. And for a while, the cruelty of others was forgotten in that almost perfect moment.
An errand to Meijer ended our evening. Christopher loves it there. For some reason, he loves grocery shopping at Meijer. We bought our milk, Christopher scanned it at the self-checkout, I paid, and we left.
It was bedtime when we got home, and I was happy that an evening of sadness and tears had become a wonderful memory that I know I will have for the rest of my life. I hope Christopher will as well.
I can't stop bratty kids and insensitive adults from hurting my son, but I won't let it happen without a fight.
The family next door to us had a birthday party for their two children, both boys. It was at our local Chuck E. Cheese's, a favorite hangout for Christopher. One of the boys is older than Christopher, and the other is his exact age. The problem that we had is that of the four children in our family who are no-brainers to invite to the party (Isaac is too old and Aidan is too young), only three were asked. Christopher was excluded.
This is the latest incident in a pattern that we've seen coming for a while. Earlier this year, we noticed that the other kids in the neighborhood (and some of those in our family) were deliberately excluding Christopher from play. Some were being very upfront about it, making it a cruel tease to tell him that "I'm not going to play with you." Others just excluded him silently. The other night at a friend's house, Christopher was practically begging one of the children to play with him, only to be completely ignored in favor of, of all things, a chess game between two of the older children. We saw him becoming the butt of jokes and cruel mocking for his behavioral problems. We saw him in the neighbor's yard by himself asking if the little boy who lives there would "come out and play with me." (The answer was no.)
The most gut wrenching of all is that Christopher has grown into the knowledge of the pain of his rejection. For the first time this Spring, Rita had to hold him while he cried and asked, "Why won't anyone play with me?"
I've been hurting for this kid for 5 years, and the hits keep coming. Of course, my pain is nothing compared to the bitter hurt that Christopher is feeling.
So, when the birthday party invitation came and only three names were on it (after all, we couldn't have the weird, special needs kid ruin anyone's good time), I made up my mind that this was not going to be about Christopher being rejected. I can't shield him from everything, but I can protect him from this pain. So, I came up with a Chris' night out with Dad. I announced it excitedly and told him that we were going to have a blast. He believed me, and I didn't hear one word of remorse over his birthday party rejection.
Our first stop was an exotic pet store. Olivia's gerbils had had babies again, and they needed a new home. We delivered them in a large box and then set out to look at the bizarre animals. Chris had a great time. He spent a while in the fish area looking for a clown fish so that he could see "Nemo." He wanted to scare the birds to see them jump around their cages. (I told him to stop it.) We admired the snakes and lizards. Although he gave way to fear when we looked in on the tarantulas and scorpions, he screwed up his nerve, and we went back for another look. He handled it much better the second time around. We talked about his desire to have pets of his own. He said that he wants some gerbils like Liv has.
We left and went to the ice cream shop down the road. We each got a flurry, buttoned our wind breakers against the chilly air, and happily devoured the first ice cream of the season. I thought about the promise that this year would hold. The fun times ahead. And for a while, the cruelty of others was forgotten in that almost perfect moment.
An errand to Meijer ended our evening. Christopher loves it there. For some reason, he loves grocery shopping at Meijer. We bought our milk, Christopher scanned it at the self-checkout, I paid, and we left.
It was bedtime when we got home, and I was happy that an evening of sadness and tears had become a wonderful memory that I know I will have for the rest of my life. I hope Christopher will as well.
I can't stop bratty kids and insensitive adults from hurting my son, but I won't let it happen without a fight.
