If you have young kids you’re probably familiar with the current trend in toys which is to collect small figures that are part of a series. Shopkins, Pikmi Pops, Mini Hatchimals, Surprizimals, Mini Mixi Qs, etc.
They often come in blind bags, or eggs, or some other concealing packaging so you don’t know what you’re going to get, and each one comes with a printed list of all the characters in the set.
Each character is coded as either common, rare, ultra rare, or – the most prized and coveted – limited edition. (Or some variation of this ranking system.) Much discussion goes on about how many toys one owns in each of these categories and status is ascribed.
None of this actually matters except that you need this context to understand the world I live in as the mother of an almost 7 year old.
. . .
Last week my daughter and I were shopping and as we walked across the parking lot she said to me “it’s cool to have a Mum who uses a cane. Not many other mums use canes. And it’s cool to have a Mum who takes needles all the time. It’s kind of rare.”
I explained that diabetes is a common disease but that Myasthenia Gravis is a rare disease. And then she said “so having both is, like, ultra rare…. actually it’s like you’re Limited Edition! Most mums are just common or rare so I’m lucky!”
I think I’m the lucky one. To have someone who sees the things I consider deficits as assets instead is rare gift.
As we were driving home from church one day, she asked if she could take a picture of me. No reason, she just wanted one. I almost said no because I had my eye patch on and was feeling super limp. But then I realized that she doesn’t see my bad days. She just sees her mum. So I said yes.