I’ve always prided myself on being the kind-hearted mom in the neighborhood, offering comfort to lonely kids during school pick-up and keeping an eye on little ones at the grocery store. But everything changed yesterday when I told a golden-haired girl at the park to leave us alone.
It was a warm and sunny day, perfect for creating memories. I packed a picnic lunch, remembering to include balls, bubbles, sand toys, and a Frisbee. My older daughter, Mia, brought her scooter, while my younger daughter, Lily, navigated her pink power wheelchair across the grass and sidewalks at our local park. I had envisioned a day filled with laughter and play, helping Lily climb, slide, and swing—challenging tasks for a child who can’t stand independently, but oh, the joy of playing at the park like everyone else!
Upon arrival, we found a shady spot for our blanket. After enjoying lunch and some fun games, Mia took off on her scooter, zipping around while Lily and I played with bubbles. Eventually, we decided to move to the swings and slides. Mia led the way, leaving her scooter at the swing set while Lily and I parked her chair. I took Lily’s arms and helped her swing, gently pushing her as she laughed and called out to Mia.
Soon, a golden-haired girl, about five or six years old and dressed in a neon pink and green sundress, appeared, hopping with excitement. Lily greeted her, but the girl ignored her and instead pointed at Lily’s wheelchair, asking, “Why does she have that?”
“It helps her get around,” I replied.
We continued our adventure at the climbing gym. I carefully helped Lily up the steps, one hand on hers and the other on her hip for balance. After a slow ascent, we reached the top, and Lily eagerly called for Mia to join her in a game of hide-and-seek. The golden-haired girl returned, peppering me with questions. “Why do you help her walk?” “Why do you hold her hands?” she asked without pausing. “It helps her stay balanced and move quicker,” I explained.
For the next thirty minutes, as Lily slid down slides and climbed back up, the golden-haired girl kept appearing, asking a barrage of questions. “Why do you slide with her?” and “I am five and can do it by myself. Why can’t she?” I responded with my best kid-friendly answers, avoiding the harsh realities of muscle weakness and limitations. I wanted this sunny afternoon to feel normal and happy for all of us.
I noticed the girl’s babysitter lost in her phone, blissfully unaware of the golden-haired girl’s relentless curiosity. I thought to myself, this babysitter probably needed a break from her constant questions. When the girl returned again as Lily and I climbed, I finally snapped. “Go. Play,” I said firmly.
“Excuse me?” she replied, clearly taken aback. “Go. Play. Somewhere. Else,” I repeated, emphasizing each word. Miraculously, she vanished.
Later at dinner, as we reminisced about our park day, Lily remarked, “That little girl… I saw her following you.” Mia chimed in, “She was bothering me.” Lily laughed, rolling her eyes.
I remembered the golden-haired girl, bounding across the park with her strong legs and golden curls bouncing as she reached the highest tower—where Lily wished she could go, but could only dream of climbing because of the monkey bars. I sighed deeply, “Me too, Lily. She was so annoying.”
This article was originally published on Jan. 21, 2011.
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