Yesterday Robby and I packed a picnic basket and headed for the animal park. After greeting all of his animal friends, Robby ran to his favorite spot--the moon bounce. When he saw that the bouncer was filled with kids his age, he took off in a full sprint. I dutifully followed behind and took my assumed position on the bench next to the giant inflatable structure.
The kids, with Robby in tow, ran between the moon bounce and the playground. I followed like a well trained puppy, putting on and removing shoes, pushing and stopping the merry-go-round, and pouring cups of water for the small brood of children. Typical of these trips, I assumed the caretaker role for all of the little ones while their mothers were chatting on cell phones and typing on their laptops.
One little girl, named Ella, was cautious around me. I replied to her stares with smiles, hoping to diffuse her fears. Finally, after nearly an hour, she approached Robby and asked him what was wrong with his Mommy's leg.
Robby looked perplexed by the question. She asked him again, and he seemed to understand. This was Robby's explanation- "Oh, nothing is wrong. Mommy has her running leg on today so she can race. Her Proprio is at home because she doesn't want goat poopy on it. Let's hop."
Ella, unsatisfied with the answer, asked Robby again what was wrong with me and why I had extra legs. He explained that "Mr. Elliot makes Mommy lots of legs so she can play all kinds of games with me. Are you going to hop or not?" Either satisfied with the answer or resigned to the fact that she was not being understood, Ella abandoned her questioning and obediently began to hop.
Right now, Robby thinks that I am the prettiest girl on the playground. I am his best buddy and I tell the funniest jokes he's ever heard. He is unaware of any "imperfections" and accepts my prosthetic legs as a normal part of life. He wasn't holding back information from Ella. He was telling her the truth from his perspective. As he sees it, there isn't anything "wrong" with his Mommy.
I am fully aware that Robby will realize that my amputation is not the norm for all mothers. There will come a day when he won't want to play with me, and will no longer think I'm "pretty like a whale." Right now he thinks that I'm perfect, and I wouldn't have it any other way!