I've been laying low this past week, little time or opportunity to write or edit pictures in the wake of 31 for 21. I finally managed to complete some photos that had been sitting for a few weeks.
Not only did we celebrate the 6th birthday of one of Samantha's friends two weeks ago, but we also had a breakthrough of sorts, and a new experience to boot. I've said before that I refuse to allow her headphones to be a relied-upon crutch, but knowing that a) we were going to a birthday party and b) the birthday party was in a bowling alley, I thought the occasion was more than appropriate to break them out. The night before, I asked Samantha to remind me in the morning to bring the headphones with us.
I just love that I can ask her stuff like that, and she really takes it to heart, follows through. She's getting to be so grown up, I can hardly stand it! And waaaaay long gone are my days with her when I would be counting the minutes until she goes to bed and I can get a breather, and long have we been in the utopia of time spent joyously together, looking forward to the next set of waking hours in which to do it all over again. She's truly my best friend, my companion, my little buddy who is so much fun to be around, whose neural pathways are ever-branching out into complex tangles of knowledge and a growing wisdom I never expected at such a tender age.
Now where was I?
Oh yes, the bowling party.
Is it just me, or are bowling shoes, so hideously ugly on adults, just too cute to bear on little kids' tiny feet?
Samantha had never been bowling. I think I have such negative connotations attached to people with intellectual disabilities, Down syndrome in particular, going bowling, because of a certain Dead Milkmen song from the 80s. I won't say the name because it bothers me so much, but if you look them up, you'll likely find it. I used to like them back in my burgeoning early alternative years, but always was left with a bad taste in my mouth at that particular song, could never say the title. And it brought to mind a stereotype that may or may not have existed at some point in time, one that was created in my mind as a result.
But seriously, to hell with them.
I think I can finally move past it, can create new associations, can enjoy others enjoying such a fun pasttime, can see it all for what it is - fun for all.
Samantha totally surprised me at her ability to pick up and carry the heavy, pink bowling ball, never dropping it on the floor (unlike some other child who dropped theirs...on my foot), so proud of herself as she watched it slooooooowly roll to its destination, occasionally tapping the bumpers in place to prevent gutterballs.
Every time the ball hit its mark, she jumped up and down, yelling, "Yaaaay!" And how exciting when she bowled a STRIKE!!
We'll definitely do this again. I think she has a taste for it now, and Steve and I happen to love it as well, although I honestly can't remember the last time we went.
Maybe that's what we can do for our anniversary...