“Julianna, stop grunting and use your words.” Christian rested wrists on the table, fork in hand, and gave her a stern look, which our little pixie met with a bright smile. “Be-deeya blelua bwee!”
Alex collapsed into giggles, which made me chuckle. He has such an adorable laugh.
But at the end of the table, “stern” turned to “severe.” “You DO NOT LAUGH AT YOUR SISTER,” Christian scolded.
Alex’s face collapsed, and I leaped in. “Christian, he wasn’t making fun of her.”
“But this is where it starts.”
“But this isn’t like that,” I said. “We laughed at Nicholas, too, when he said cute things learning to talk.”
We’re entering a brave new world. For the first five years of her life, Julianna has been protected. At all times she’s been shielded from all the potential unkindness of the world by the presence of her family, except when she’s at school–a school walled off and dedicated to children like her. But in a few months, that’s all over. She’ll walk unprotected into a huge school full of kids who have never seen anyone like her, and who, for better or for worse, will have imbibed their parents’ attitudes (like the bozo I argued with all day on Facebook a few weeks ago, who refused to accept that the colloquial use of the word “retard” is demeaning and hurtful to those who actually fit the description, and wouldn’t admit that said usage came into being as an insult directly and knowingly comparing someone you don’t like to someone like my daughter).
Every time I fret about this, friends remind me that little ones are very open-minded. But the mental image of kids making fun of my kid is very strong, based on some conglomeration of memories whose images have become indistinct in detail, but whose essential truth I don’t doubt. I don’t doubt that at some point in her childhood, Julianna will be laughed at, made fun of, made to feel less-than because of her extra chromosome.
And yet.
Not all laughter is cruel. Human interactions are complex things. Every week at choir practice, we banter, we poke fun at each other, we laugh together at each other’s weaknesses. To suggest that no one can ever laugh at Julianna is to deprive her of the richness of these loving exchanges. If no one is allowed to laugh when she says something funny, that sets her up as different, as Other, as surely as making fun of her does.
Laughter is appropriate and loving at times, cruel and soul-killing at others. It’s all in the intention. But how do you teach a child the difference? It has never, will never, would never occur to Alex to make fun of Julianna. He adores his sister, even though she does drive him nuts sometimes. He’s grown up so integrated with life with special needs that he doesn’t even get why Daddy reacted as he did. Alex laughed because was reacting as a family member reacts to someone he loves. Yet he needs to be aware that cruelty exists, and that he has a responsibility both as a human being and as Julianna’s brother to stand up and call people down when it occurs.
I have no idea how to communicate this without making him hypersensitive, which is also contrary to my goal of making a wall-less world for my daughter and those like her. But somehow, we have to try.
Kathleen M. Basi 
I hear you and I hear Christian. For what it’s worth, my five-year-old has struggled with understanding that our laughter is not meant maliciously. She says funny things that genuinely make us laugh, yet she thinks we are making fun of her. Each time we have to explain that just like we laugh when a movie is funny, we are laughing because she is funny and we love her. My gut reaction was to “side” with you, but maybe Christian is right. Julianna can’t express her hurt the way Eva can, but who is to say that she isn’t hurt even with the best of intentions? Yet how can we not chuckle, like Alex? Tough tough tough.
Well, and this wasn’t meant to be a “my side” or “his side” issue, either. The problem is going to be more universal than how Alex acts toward her; it’s about all the people she’ll interact with. Christian and I both worry about both sides of this issue.
“To suggest that no one can ever laugh at Julianna is to deprive her of the richness of these loving exchanges. If no one is allowed to laugh when she says something funny, that sets her up as different, as Other, as surely as making fun of her does.”
I found that beautifully put. You can’t have an “all or nothing” attitude about most things, but certainly not about laughter. There aren’t any easy answers, are there?
Isn’t that the truth!
When we laugh with others concerning our own weaknesses and theirs, at some level we are accepting them and acknowledging the fact that we and they are a work in progress. God, after all, has a sense of humor, too, as Jesus demonstrated in some of the parables He told. As long as love is behind the laughter, it can be very healing.
Derisive laughter is utterly demolishing and unloving. If we can just ask God to remove the scales from our eyes so that we see others as He sees them, we will always be affirming to the inherent dignity of the person.
I share your fears of Julianna being ridiculed and unfortunately it’s just something kids have to learn to deal with. If she deals with it well, she will be all the stronger for it. The love her family gives her will help her get through the difficult times. She is smarter than the scoffers will think, and her guardian angel will watch over her, too. Courage!
AWESOME! Mariana loves attention, so at 19 mos, she doesn’t care if she is laughed at, but someday she will. I guess I intend to handle it the way we do with the other kids; if it hurts her feelings, the other child should apologize and explain it was never meant as hurtful. Misunderstandings will happen, and that’s okay as long as they grow up knowing they have each other’s back!