Empathy

Yesterday, Andrew and I went to the Art Gallery of Windsor to make visual poetry. He was unenthusiastic, declaring, "I hate poetry!" Undaunted, I cajoled the boy into giving it a try.

When we got there, he was his usual ray of sunshine, asking the people in charge thoughtful questions. We gathered out materials and went to work. The idea was to take a copy if what appeared to be an old advertisement and add words. Andrew found an airplane and had a blast. As we were finishing, a young man around 12 and his mom entered the studio. The boy was rocking and whining and crying. He did not want to be there.

The mom spent a few minutes consoling the boy and he agreed to sit with here while she made a visual poem. They sat next to us, about two seats away. The young man held on for as long as he could, but set to whining and crying again. This caught Andrew's attention. My beamish boy walked over to console the boy. He leaned in and said, "It's okay. This is really fun." He then patted the boy on the shoulder. That was not a good idea as the boy nearly elbowed Andrew in the chest. The mom thanked Andrew and I urged him to come back and help clean up.

He was a little shaken up that he had been nearly hit. I was, too. We talked very briefly about it and determined that even if people are uber-crabby to you, you should still be as nice as you can. Perhaps, you can put something into their empty bucket.

Watching that mom and her son, I realized just how lucky I am. My boy is not as severe as that young man. Gone, for the most part, are the days when I think Andrew is going to end up in a group home as an adult. Anyone who can show such kindness to a total stranger is going to do alright and make to world a better place.