This past week at work has been crazy. I’ve had to move to another office to fill in for someone who has retired. I am always happy to do what needs doing and it is good to be there again (I’ve spent most of time with the college at this location). My co-workers are great. They are always asking me how the kids are doing and taking a genuine interest in my life and family.

I would say that most are at least somewhat familiar with Monkey’s life. Certainly those who I worked with during and immediately after our pregnancy with him. However, I do not go out of my way to tell anyone about how Monkey’s life is different than theirs or their children’s. Don’t ask, I really don’t know why. I go to work to work and if I happen to get into such conversations, I’m more than happy to share if you seem to actually care.

As I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I ran into a co-worker I have not seen in some time. She is always especially interested in how my hunting seasons go. She knows that it is one my favorite things to do. Sometimes, I have very little to report (this is not for a lack of effort mind you) and she likes to give me a hard time for such fruitless endeavors. Since she has not seen me since deer season last fall, she asked how things had gone and if I still had some meat in the freezer. This is just the set up and really has nothing to do with where I’m going, promise, I’ll get there. My point is that when we see each other we talk.

So then she asked me a question. It kind of took me back and I half took it as a joke. I thought she was kidding because I had made an assumption, and as one of my favorite english teachers and mentors always said, “you know what that makes out of you and me”.  The question was, “Will you let your son hunt?” The assumption, that she knows that Monkey isn’t able to do such.

Since I did not have much time, I responded as kindly and quickly as possible. “He can’t pull the trigger, but I’ll take him for as long as he can sit still when he’s older (with a genuine amount of hope)”. Really just thinking that it would be nice to peacefully sit in the woods with my son enjoying creation. She responded that of course not now but when he was older. Then that assumption hit me in the face. She doesn’t know. I gave a quick explanation that Monkey has a brain malformation and can’t walk or talk, so this really isn’t issue to consider, but if Princess ever wanted to put on some camo and climb a tree, I was good.

Two things have come to mind since. First, I assumed. I think we’ve covered that, but that’s what I did. I think it’s because I walk around constantly thinking about Monkey and it’s our lives. The biggest part of our lives. How could someone not know? Well, that’s pretty simple. If you don’t tell people, they don’t know. What a simple thought, while being a pretty big deal for some of us.

Second thought. I’m glad I don’t talk about Monkey in such a way that his obstacles in life are what people hear. I have talked to this co-worker about my son regularly for the last four years. I can’t believe I have not specifically talked to her about Monkey’s specific awesomeness. At the same time I’m glad that it does not have to dominate the way I talk to people about our family.

What does this particular person who I talk to regularly know? She knows I love my son.