The funny and the fury

My little boy is so funny. He has such a great sense of humor and is such a tease I wonder what he would say if he could. Recently, I will ask him, "Josh, I am missing something" and pucker my lips innocently, "what could it be? I am missing something". And he will kiss me. The other day I said it, "I am missing something Josh, what am I missing?" and he turned to me with a mischievous grin and tapped his temple. I immediately started laughing and tickling him. "You think your mother is missing her brain?! I'll show you!" So you see, I have been feeling great because he is so funny and wonderful. At the same time, children have been noticing that Josh is different and have began talking about it. This is especially frustrating because to me I am seeing how wonderful and fun he is and this is the time that they are singling him out and labeling him. There have been good and bad times with this but I am trying to make them better. One boy (about 7) watched us while we were in line at a store. Eventually he looked at me and asked, "Was your son born like this?" It kind of hurt because I thought we were "passing" as normal. But I was so proud of that boy. He asked the right question, and after he got his answer he continued talking to me, treating us as he would have anyone else. I still cried later, but this sort of thing is hard not to cry about even when it is good. Then yesterday, we were heading into a store and a group of people were selling things outside of the store. A little girl (about 8) yells, "I know him! I know that boy! He goes to my school! He's one of the handicappeds!" It stuck with me during the whole store. I was annoyed by everyone and everything. The bagger bagged our bananas and canned soup together so by the time we got them into the car they were bruised. I left Josh in the car with Sharon to go complain about it. I was so bugged I couldn't let it go. Sharon had the car outside the store. I had to walk by the little girl and by the time I had the door handle in my hand I knew I couldn't let it go. Barely aware of my choice I realized I was walking towards the girl and suddenly I was kneeling in front of her. "I know you are young and do not know when you say hurtful things sometimes but you are NEVER to call my son handicapped again. If I called you by something you didn't do well it would hurt your feelings right? So when you call my son by what he doesn't do well it hurts his feelings. Do not call him handicapped okay?" I tried to finish by telling her she needs to call him by his name but her father was looking mortified by now and asking her what she said and I felt my face crumpling. So I walked to the car, crying about an 8 year old. Not my proudest moment. But honestly, my son is really amazing. Why can't everyone see it too? He is more than his diagnosis. And why does it bother me so much? So petty. More lessons in patience and loving others. It is funny that my mother always said that was something I am good with and yet I have to learn it over and over. Practice makes perfect I guess.