Ignorance is bliss

"Ignorance is bliss" was just a phrase, until I had Max. Back then, those words suddenly seemed cruel, and personal. Ignorance was torture. It didn't seem at all blissful that Max had cognitive delays and couldn't seem to grasp things other children his age were understanding. Once, when he was a toddler, a relative slipped and called him "simple-minded," and I lost it and shouted my head off. Partly because I was furious, partly from fear because I wasn't yet sure it wasn't true.

Yesterday, 9/11, Sabrina caught a few moments of the victims names' being read off on TV. We talked a bit about what she'd discussed in school—the bad people who had destroyed buildings, the hurt people the heroes.

Max wasn't interested in listening. "Bad people" is a concept that's beyond him right now. And you know what? I had no issue with that. I know that Max's mind is bright, fertile, and full of possibilities (and purple). He is far from simple-minded or ignorant—just unaware of certain things, as of yet.

Max will someday understand 9/11, and much, much more. For now, he is the happiest child I have ever known, he is making progress, and he is learning a whole lot every single day. He is not aware of what he doesn't know. Ignorance is bliss...and that's OK.

Do you know what I mean?