Wisdom in the Snow

It was the day after our most recent snow storm. Ellie was inside with Erin where it was “nice and warm” (Ellie's words, honest) and I was on the back deck with Leo, attempting to build a snow man.

We rolled the appropriate balls together for the body. We found acorns for eyes and buttons and dried sticks for a mouth and arms and a nose. Leo’s hat was lent to our little snow man and he borrowed my gloves.

And, as I often do at moments I want to document (either here or for a photo album or whatever), I whisked the camera out of my pocket and attempted to take a picture.

Leo is often camera shy. He shakes his little fist at me and stomps his feet and yells “NO!” adamantly. I usually respect his wishes (and go ahead and sneak pictures in when I can), but this snow man was so precious and the activity had been such a delight. I wanted to have proof of it.

That’s when Leo pushed the snow man down. Destroyed it. Down went the head. The hat was thrown across the yard. The stick arms were tossed away with total disregard.

I stood, frozen. Not sure what to say or do. It all happened so fast.

To be honest, I wasn’t even angry. Just sad. Why would he do that?

And my next thought was what I often think when Leo does something "bad" and I'm a little ashamed to admit it. It’s because he has Down syndrome. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have Down syndrome.

This is, of course ridiculous. Because who knows? Who knows which of Leo’s behaviors are related to Down syndrome? I mean, I have my suspicions, but again, why does it matter? It’s just an excuse to be mad. Or disappointed. Or depressed. Or to play that giant, stupid, loomy, “What If” card.

And what of all the so called "good" Down syndrome qualities? I won't even go into that list as I don't want to perpetuate stereotypes. I know, I know.

When Ellie won't stop chattering and go to sleep at 10:30 pm, or when she refuses to close the refrigerator door and sit in her chair to eat the string cheese, do I sigh and say, Oh, it's because she has 46 chromosomes? Right.

Back to the snow man.

After what seemed like forever (mere minutes), after the Appetite for Destruction of the snowman incident was over, I just quietly and calmly said to Leo, Why did you do that? Mommy helped you build a snow man and he was beautiful. And I wanted a picture of you two together.

And do you know what Leo did?

He rebuilt his snowman. Every last little body part and limb. Quietly and quickly and wordlessly, he put him back together.

And he crouched down and posed for a picture, without even being asked.

He said "Chee." (His version of "Cheese.")

Oh sure, Leo can be a little hurricane sometimes. And oh does he have a temper. But ultimately, he loves to please. And he knows how to do it. And oh does he know when he’s disappointed you.

This scares me a little, because I know how critical I can be. I’m working on trying to be more patient. Less reactive.


I should take a lesson from Leo.

I think he would have sat for photos for as long as I wanted to take them. He only stopped posing because I put the camera away, finally (and I didn't even get the Geez Mom! expression once!).

When it doesn’t involve food, Leo is one of the most patient people I know.