Marching On - Part I

Gillian is nine years old.  True, she does have Down Syndrome, but that doesn't make her any less nine, even if she is half the size of her classmates.  I tend to think of her specially-formulated chromosomal make-up as a kaleidoscope of her true colours, a unique and perfect palette, from her contagious laugh to her vibrant personality, and everything in between ... a young lady in the making. 

When Gillian was a toddler, I somehow imagined that she would grow up to be easy-going, without voice or opinion.  I could never imagine a child with Down Syndrome having a temper tantrum, much less a time-out.  On the contrary, the only thing "slow" about her is the speed at which she eats her vegetables. These days, Gillian adds a rich myriad of mystery, excitement, joy and chuckles to daily life. 

It's the case of the disappearing things (See Case of the Missing Shoe).

It's her creative use of those disappeared things, such as my collection of knee-high stockings (see again Case of the Missing Shoe).  After weeks of limping off to work barefoot in high heels, they suddenly reappeared one afternoon in the form of three dozen tied-together stockings now resembling a very long, lumpy, colorful nylon rope, with Gillian dangling from the end, practicing her Tarzan swing after perfecting her knotting technique on each and every stocking.  The trouble was, after a few good swings off the top of the banister, the knots had cemented themselves into one fused mass.  I managed to get the top knot untied from the banister before other Tarzans appeared ... then the weeks passed.  In the wee hours of the morning, while dressing for work, I'd lay out the knotted rope across my bedroom floor, determined to un-tie at least two -- ANY COLOR combo would do -- to no avail. I tried fingernails.  Teeth. Tears.  Pliers.  Then laughter.

It's her constant re-shuffling, like a daily Scavenger Hunt with the first item leading to the next, but the prize always out of reach.  Example:  You reach for a washcloth, but all of the washcloths are gone.  In their place is an impressive collection of princess undies.  Which leads one to the logical assumption that, Ah-Hah! Gillian's undies drawer must now hold all of the washcloths!  Much to your surprise, however, the undies drawer is now filled with all of Prince N's socks.  Which of course leads you to his room, where you throw open the sock drawer only to discover that IT now contains only Barbie doll dresses.  Determined to reach the end of today's scavenger hunt which ought to lead to the missing washcloths, you race back downstairs to the Barbie tub to find that it now contains .... leaves.  Lots of them.  Wet, sticky, starting-to-decompose leaves.  And that's that.   No more clues.  And no washcloths.  The trick is to find the all-of-the-missing items before they are creatively used (as above).  And if not?  Yup ... laugh.

It's the way she tells a tale by suddenly exclaiming, "Oh, OH!!!" while raising her hand and jumping up on her chair (lest we don't notice that it is her turn now to speak).  For the next several minutes, the entire household -- or classroom, as the case may be -- listens politely, intently, fill-in-the-blank-style, praying for enough discernible words so as to respond appropriately to Gillian's breathless tale.  Despite years upon years of speech therapy, when Gillian strings words, it sounds like this:  "And then,  LKGDSAKJKESATOIUUQPOIDXIEMGMKDIZLDLDSAFJDSAPOA ... base ball!  And then, MVCKSPHIWPQLXZJFJJVVOEONAFIEJAIEHFIEOESIIASROAN .... birthday!"  At this point you take the identifiable words and repeat them back, hoping she can add a few more.  Then you piece together her story for her, like, "Oh, you played base ball ... on your birthday!?"  If you were close, she will almost bound off the chair with excitement:  "YES!!!!!!"  But if your best guesses were off, she'll sigh a HUGE sigh, fold her arms across her chest, stomp the chair with one foot in frustration, and try again.  The whole family, right on down to the three-year-old, will listen even harder, chiming in like a Family Game Show:  "You want a baseball for your birthday!?"  "You like baseball, and you like your birthday too!?"  Eliciting a "YES!!!!" from Gillian is more rewarding and exciting then winning Family Feud. 

Most recently, our Gilly excitement centers around the fire truck which pulls up nonchalantly in front of our home on the second Tuesday of every month ...

(to be continued in a week or so)