Such things as:
- A nativity scene. Complete with the devil standing by. Painted completely red, with a skull between his feet and a beer bottle in his right hand. Sure seems to take the "serene" out of the scene.
- A box tossed by the side of the road with a blanket in it. Closer examination reveal little puppy feet. 3 dead puppies.
- An empty condom wrapper under the park bench
- About 4 pounds of cooked beans, heaped in the grass next to the side walk.
Sometimes I think about this whole "normal" thing. For Noah, it is normal to listen to people talking and say, "Si, si, si" or to hit the bad floor that made him bonk his head and say "Ma-o, ma-o" (Malo="bad"). It's normal he lives in a 3rd floor apartment that looks out to the mountains surrounding our city. It's Noah's life that there is no candy sweeter to him than a corn tortilla hot off the presses. It is normal for him that he lives at over 7,000 feet of altitude and that here there are more people on bikes or motorcycles than cars.
I feel like I am bringing him "normal" when I serve him up his beloved mac & cheese (Kraft, to be sure) or when I present him with a box of Crayolas. Or sing him nursery rhymes. Or turn on Blue's Clues (which he absolutely loves).
I wonder, as I look at him--straddling these two "normals". He doesn't even know he's doing it. I wonder if he will later. I hope to find and accentuate the good in both these normals, and to not project that what is not my normal is in some way inferior.