Being Different

Yesterday I had to have a talk with Sam about how it feels to be different.

There is a boy, Cadence, whom Sam has always admired for his charm, wildness and agility. Sam usually loves to hang out with him in the pool or at the park because the boy is full of fun and loud about it. Lately, when Sam sees Cadence, he turns in on himself and makes himself small. Sometimes he even wants to leave wherever we are if Cadence is there. I hasten to add that Cadence has never been anything but nice to Sam. He has not ever criticized or hurt Sam. Sam simply feels his difference.

I have seen this interaction with another child and her daddy. Tessa is fairly adventurous and her dad likes Sam. He often comes up to Sam to "pound it out" or get a high five. Sam likes him, and probably Tessa as well. Despite this liking, as soon as Tessa's dad says, "Sam, watch Tessa," and invites Tessa to do some acrobatic trick, Sam tries to leave. I say tries because if he is not in his walker or wearing his swimmies, he relies on me or another adult for locomotion.

In other instances, Sam has been on the brink of speaking and stopped himself from making a sound.

He has a great book by Todd Parr called, "It's OK to Be Different." Unfortunately, this book doesn't talk about how it feels to compare oneself and come up wanting. I suppose I will try to write a book about this for Sam, since nothing else is available. In the meanwhile, now that my heart is wrung out, I suppose I will hang it out to dry.