Entitled Parents

Give my son's all of your handicapped child's things

This one happened a few years ago when we first moved to Washington State, before relocating back to my home state of Arizona. Noble's wheelchair at the time was too big for him, we bought it second hand because he had outgrown his previous one but he was less than a year away from Insurance (private and state) buying him a new one. (They will only refresh his gear on a certain schedule) Anyway, due to it being oversized it had a certain benefit, the foot stays were just out of his reach, but they made a handy seat for his little brother to sit on if he got tired (he was 3-4 at the time) so we did not have to carry along a second means to transport him.

We were at a park that had the nice, oversized, with harness special needs swings with Noble, his brother and some friends. Noble loves to swing and we go to the park often, to the point that when other regulars see us they know to clear a special needs swing for him. This day they did not, so Noble's brothers ran him around a bit, getting all kinds of laughs and squeals out of him until a swing came open.

I put Noble in the swing and his brothers asked if they could continue to play with the wheelchair. I said sure so long as they were careful and brought it right back. The boys proceeded to take turns running around the park sitting in, or being pushed, in the wheelchair, with my youngest usually riding the foot prompts. This lasted for a few minutes before they got bored, brought it back, parked it next to the swing set and went to play.

After a few more minutes Noble is getting tired, his head is dropping and he isn't laughing anymore. When Noble gets tired, that's it, he turns full rag doll. I slowly bring the swing to a stop and from the corner of my eye see the wheelchair slip away. Thinking it is my sons I say, "leave the wheelchair, I'm going to feed Noble." The wheelchair continues to move away and I see two Entitled Brats (10-12 by the looks of them) arguing over it. Me: "Hey, that's my son's wheelchair, leave it alone I need to put him back in it."

EB1: "But we want to play in it."

EB2: "YEah just like them other kids."

Me: "'THem other kids' were his brothers and friends, but I need to put him back in it now." Noble has stopped swinging at this point and is slumped over in the harness, worn out. I step over and grab the handle to the wheelchair pulling it away.

EB1+2: "Hey it's out turn, let us play on it."

Me: "No, this is not a toy, it is a medical device that Noble needs."

The two boys finally seem to take notice of Noble. EB1 "What's his problem?" Not what's wrong with him, but what's his problem.

I wear my emotions pretty openly and may have responded a bit more harshly then usual. "He's handicapped, and needs his wheelchair, that's his 'problem.'" I pull the wheelchair over and start to get it ready when Mama June comes rolling up (Seriously she was so huge Jabba the Hutt would tell her to go on a diet).

MJ: "What are you do-in? My boys wanna to play."

Me: "I'm getting my son's wheelchair so I can feed him."

She looks over at Noble. "Why don't you jus' feed him there, or on yer lap?"

Noble is small, yes, but when worn out he needs to be in a seat to be fed, and I do not want to feed him in the swing, that is just gross. "No ma'am, he needs to be in his seat, now please," she has a hand on the wheelchair, leaning on it like she almost needs the support. "Let go of the wheelchair."

She huffs and starts backing away and I turn back to Noble, thinking it's over. I have Noble unstrapped and am about to turn around when I hear:

EB1: "Look Mama he's got drugs!"

Noble in my arms I spin around. EB1 has pulled Noble's insulated lunch bag out of the backpack on the rear of the wheelchair out which had his anti-seizure meds in it along with his lunch (we were planning to be out all day). Me: "Put that down, those are his meds," I call out as I put Noble into his seat.