The Joy Pool

I heard his squeals, moans, and other exuberant vocalizations before I saw him. I had just given my crew at the pool a few last minute warnings about sunblock, and let them know where I'd be, and was about to make my way down the boardwalk toward my beach chair for some solitary beach therapy. Instead I turned my head toward the familiar sound, and saw a young boy, about my Liberty's age, playing with his dad in the pool. Dad was motorboating the boy through the water, threatening to "get him", as good southern dads do. The boy grinned from ear to ear as he dragged his half eaten apple through the heavily chlorinated water. We special needs parents have choosing our battles down to an art. Mom sat on the edge of the pool, with her feet in the water, watching Dad and Son, with a content smile on her face. That is, until I spoke to her. "How old is he?", I asked with a smile. I could see her stiffen a bit, as she slowly inhaled, steeling herself for the conversation with the nosy stranger. She hesitantly replied, "He's 10..." I said, brightly, "Oh ok! My daughter just turned 11!" and gestured toward Liberty floating contentedly in her giant donut float, making some of the same, familiar sounds. I could see Mom start to relax a bit. By this time, Dad was listening to the conversation. I said, "Vacations don't look much like they used to. But we just had to decide if we were going to sit around at home all the time, or brave the world. It's still good. Just different." They both smiled a lot bigger this time, and heartily agreed. "Just have to go with the flow." We all agreed, laughing. I wished them a wonderful vacation, and headed down to my chair to read and take in the beach and gulf with all my senses. If you're the reason moms stiffen when strangers approach them, in the immortal words of Bob Newhart, "Stop it!" And if you see special needs families out, encourage them. Especially if you are walking it out yourself, or are close to someone who is. A little encouragement goes such a long way. To quote I forget who: Remember what you needed, and be that for others. I see you, Sis. I'm here too. We got this.