Just Another Day at the Mall

I was rolling through the mall last Fall with my two year old son, Taylor, on my lap. Being a “junior trekkie in training”, he likes to sit in the “Captain's Chair” with his legs dangling down between mine as we roll from store to store. I'm so proud of the little shorty I smile just thinking about him. So, we're rolling through the food court when, out of the corner of my eye, I see this woman over by McDonald's heading my way. She had what we call in football “the angle” on me. I hoped perhaps she was heading toward the jewelry store kitty corner to us but when she said, “Excuse me! You in the wheelchair!”, I knew I was about to have another story for my talks.

I slowed to a stop and both Taylor and I watched her approach. She came up, put her hand on my shoulder (Ableist Mistake Number One: Assumed Friendship) and asked, “Is this your son?”

“Yes,” I replied, pulling away a bit, separating her hand from my shoulder, “he's mine.”

She continued. “My husband and I have been trying to adopt for quite some time and we haven't been successful and I was just wondering how you were able to adopt being that you have a disability?” (Ableist Mistake Number Two: Assumed Limitations)

I looked at her incredulously. “Excuse me?!” I responded, “We've known each other, what, seven? eight seconds? And you're wanting to know how my wife and I do it?! Don't you find that just a little rude?”

She stepped back, staring at me. “Well,” she said, obviously a bit miffed, “I just wanted to know!” (Ableist Mistake Number Three: Assumption of Right to Know). She started to storm off.

In my mind I was thinking that if “tact” were an important parental criterion, I was starting to understand why they weren't being allowed to adopt. But what I said as we parted, “Come back next November. Same place. Same time. We'll have known each other year. Maybe I'll tell you then.”