As I have been reminded, I have indeed neglected this little blog. I'm crazy busy, but I can't really talk about it in public just yet (or in some cases, ever). It's been a bit heartsick, though there have been some good outcomes, and there's some waiting on other good outcomes in the future. I hope.
Sometimes humanity makes me cringe and want to crawl into my closet.
Other times, I just want my Bishop to call me up and take me out for tea, because an hour with her always makes me feel energized for a month or so. And after this month, I feel demoralized and de-energized.
But something cool has happened: my niece has asked Santa for an American Girl doll and a wheelchair for the doll! I have it on good authority from an "elf" who looks suspiciously like my sister-in-law that the doll will indeed make an appearance, but the wheelchair was a no-go. It is much harder to find a doll wheelchair than you'd think.
Honestly, most of us were baffled: why would she want a wheelchair? She has an auntie and a granddad who are both deaf, so disabilities are not news to her. She remembers when I had my arm in a cast, so surgery is not new. I imagine she watches Glee, so she might know of Artie. But none of her family or friends use a wheelchair in every day life.
The psychological side of me thinks back to child development and thinks she is at the age where she can begin to develop empathy, and I wonder if she asked for a wheelchair because she is seeking a concrete, visible way to create a definite "otherness" for her doll. I could get her a toy cochlear, but cochlears and deafness are easy to hide. You can't hide wheels. So by imagining a doll who may sometimes be in a wheelchair, I wonder if she is creating a (an imaginary) friend who needs her help and care.
After over-thinking it like that, I made a few phone calls and did what everyone does these days: posted a plea for help on Facebook. 20 minutes later, I was en route to Build a Bear where they had reserved this for me. All I have to do now is wrap it, and write a letter from Santa or an elf in which he congratulates my niece for being so caring about others, and explains that he asked Auntie Bee to help him get her one last, special present. Because curly-lettered, fun letters from Santa amuse me to write.
Here's the wheelchair. Cute, no?