We had Colin's 6th birthday party recently, at Chuck E. Cheese, with about a dozen of his closest friends. As my stepmom says, you invite a bunch of kids to a party where they don't even play with each other--which is completely true. They run around like monkeys to their favorite games and may not even so much as smile or laugh in their friends' directions until they're corralled for pizza and the sugary cake high. But Colin ADORES Chuck, and it's a mess I don't have to clean.
This experience usually feels a bit painful for parents--it's noisy, there's no alcohol, and it's a complete roller coaster of kids, gifts, greeting parents, being moved along by the staff to keep it within the two-hour limit and, of course, the Big Mouse. But this time, I think I had the best time of my life. For two reasons:
1. All Colin wants to do is dance, dance, dance. And he got to do that. He could care less about most of the games, prefering instead to stand up on stage with the animatronic Chuck and get his groove on. I looked up at one point to find him doing a Dieter-like Euro waving move with his arms to the kiddie version of "I Ran" by Flock of Seagulls. Nice. Plus, he stalked the big silent Chuck that comes out to dance until he got maybe ten hugs. Besides not getting the answers he wanted when he quizzed the voiceless giant mouse ("Why don't you talk? Say you love me!"), he was wildly happy through the whole party. And those little dance moves I used to take for granted make me want to cry out to God with sheer gratitude that Colin can actually do those things with his arms and legs.
2. This is the second thing that made my day:
Colin went wild over this little balloon, and so did I. I mean, how cool is it that Chuck can stand up and even walk? (You just have to move his feet for him). Colin got to take home a little buddy. And Chuck's staying power is amazing--he was still floating around the house after 2 1/2 weeks.
Mostly, I looked at that little balloon and thought about Dylan. For a few minutes, I stopped wondering all the things that pervade my thoughts nearly every minute of every day-- how long he'd be on this Earth, what medical ailments and challenges he (and we) will face ahead that will threaten his life and further weaken his muscles, if we're doing things right for him, if we're doing enough for him, how much everything will cost, or how Colin might suffer.
I only thought, wouldn't it be cool to have a helium apparatus like that to strap Dilly into and let him float around as if he were standing up? The thought of my little guy getting a ride like that made me giddy for the joy that would provide him.
The balloon also reminded me that just because you might not be able to sit, stand, walk or even move on your own, you can still be perfectly happy. And dearly loved.
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