He waved his pudgy little hand at me and squealed in delight from the confines of the child seat in the front of the shopping basket. While his mother was preoccupied with selecting between cold medications, he carried on an enchanted "conversation" with me through waving and cooing and his brilliant brown eyes. In his eyes, I was a marvelous wonder of a "big person" conveniently seated at his eye level for the exact purpose of engaging in tales of the world as he experiences it. When his mother finally threw her selected medication into the cart and made her way out of the aisle, she never even noticed me even though her son continued to call and wave and bounce in his seat until they rounded the end of the aisle.
She peered at me with the appraisal of a child who is processing something new and trying to figure out how to make it fit into her knowledge of the world. As we waited for the elevator, she alternated between fidgeting with her toy cell phone and sneaking looks in my direction. To her five year old mind, I was a new encounter and she was fascinated but also trying so very hard to avoid being rude. I can only guess, but I would suspect that her past experiences with individuals who use wheelchairs has been limited to either medical environments (i.e. hospitals) or to much older individuals and at a very young looking 27 years old navigating the world independently I defied all known rules. I met her glance with a warm smile, and she shared her shy smile with me. I had to laugh as she repeatedly looked at me, in my wheelchair, and then a group of elderly individuals, some of whom were also in wheelchairs, as if playing the old Sesame Street game "one of these things is not like the other".
They stood before me blatantly staring at me, yet refusing to step to one side or the other of the aisle so that I could proceed. Their looks were not inquisitive in nature but degrading and repulsed. At about sixteen years of age, the four of them had the developmental skills to comprehend the fact that people have disabilities but apparently were lacking the social learning as to how to interact with people who were not just like them. My patience does not extend to ignorance, and so I offered them a simple choice: move or I will see just how many of them I can take out in one good roll down the aisle in wheelchair bowling. Apparently this made sense to them as they grumbled and shot dirty looks at me, but did rapidly discover that it is possible to walk without occupying the entire width of a store aisle. I do wonder if their little necks are sore from trying to stare at me behind them as they walked? :)
Three different ages, three different interactions, three different perspectives of me as a young adult who uses a wheelchair within the course of one day. Each one left me laughing, in a very different and unique way. Laughing at the innocence of a toddler, at the perplexed struggle to comprehend written on the face of a preschooler, and at the ignorant egocentric behavior of teenagers. Laughing at what it means to be human.

On Sunday, Prince Charming escorted me to explore the University of Michigan law school campus, as I am seriously considering and slowly preparing to apply to law school in order to become a legal advocate for children. The campus is breathtakingly gorgeous, and somehow a natural fit in a way that even after 5 years and graduation Vanderbilt never was to me. He really wanted me to see the reading room of the law library as it is stunning in its design, and we are both greatly impressed by the beauty of design and history. We located the correct building and began to explore. My first observation was that each window in the series of hallways where we were has a stained glass insert representing some aspect of law. Interestingly enough, the insert for "betrayal" showed one man impaling another upon his sword while the insert for "murder" was far more abstract and less graphic. I also liked the image of a lawyer apparently entering a hospital or home with an old fashioned ambulance just behind him. Even many years ago when these windows were designed, the reputation as ambulance chasers had been established. :) We then decided to try and see if the reading room might be on a different floor. It was at that point that I discovered what must certainly rate among the top 100 creepiest elevators in the state, and fairly high in the nation as well. First, the elevator would not allow the button for up to be activated, only the down button even though there were multiple floors above. This bothered me, because any elevator can go downward even if it is broken, it is just the speed of the ride and the quality of the stop at the bottom that varies. I was not interested in testing out that theory. When the elevator doors opened, they revealed an elevator that might have been large enough for me to enter in my wheelchair but I would have been scraping against the walls and my footrests may have been in the way of the door. There was no way on earth anyone else was getting on with me, but that was not an issue because I was not getting on that thing! The only elevator scarier than that one that I have encountered is the antiquated elevator at the Peabody College Education Library which actually requires you to close a grate and a door before it will work and it also is approximately the size of a shoebox. The Education Elevator also had a neatly printed set of directions taped on the wall informing riders of what to do "When" the elevator stopped working - not if but when. I think if I end up going to law school I may need to learn how to go up and down stairs in a wheelchair :) Either way, it is the sudden stop at the bottom that I am worried about!

This weekend I was kidnapped by Prince Charming and abducted by (suv) horse drawn carriage to his very nice (house) castle. Yesterday the royal chef was on strike so we took the carriage to town to obtain the noon meal from an absolutely amazing Italian restaurant. Apparently because he is royalty, a special arrangement was made for entertainment to be provided with the delicious meal. Shortly after we were seated an old couple arrived and after negotiating which table would meet their needs (not the one with too much sunlight, or the one directly underneath the ceiling fan, or the one in the corner), our entertainment began. They were adorable in the way that two people become when they have been in love and together for so long that they virtually cease to exist as a separate entity. Here is a sample of the entertainment:

Mr: What's Lasagna?
Mrs: Its the big noodles with cheese, in layers.
Mr: Does it come with anything?
Mrs: Tomato sauce, but not chicken or anything.
Mr: Okay.
(about 30 seconds later)
Mr: What's lasagna?
Mrs: Its the big noodles with cheese and sauce.
Mr: Oh, I like that. What are you getting?
Mrs: I think I am going to get lasagna, its one of my favorite things here.
Mr: What's lasagna?
Mrs: The big flat noodles, cheese, tomato sauce.
Mr: I am going to get lasagna.
Waitress: How are we doing? Are we ready to order?
Mrs: Yes, I would like to have the lasagna.
Waitress: And do you want soup or salad with that?
Mrs: Salad please.
Waitress: And for you sir?
Mr: What's lasagna?
Waitress: It is layers of pasta and cheese in a tomato sauce.
Mr: I will have lasagna.
Waitress: And soup or salad?
Mr: What kind of soup do you have?
Waitress: Vegetarian minestroni or ham and artichoke.
Mr: Minestroni please.
Mrs: What did I order?
Waitress: You ordered the lasagna and a side salad.
Mrs: Oh, okay. I think I will have that.
Mr: What's lasagna?

I do believe the waitress could have brought them scrambled eggs and they would have believed that is what they had ordered, or that scrambled eggs were lasagna. They continued to have hilarious debates and discussions throughout the meal, including a segment on how a family member is always feeling great when speaking to Mr. but feeling horrible when speaking to Mrs., which must mean she does not give him enough money. Also debated was the existence of "crooks" in the world, and whether or not a husband and wife can ever have separate vacations. Mr. was Archie Bunker given flesh and bone, and Mrs. was his perfect foil. They were our court jesters, the perfect comedic entertainment for an incredibly delicious meal. I have decided that I want to one day have a Mr. in my life, and I want to be a Mrs. and I want someone to grow senile with me.