You Can (and should) Invite/Include Disabled Kids

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Here are a few stories from the blog archives childhood birthday parties—specifically how it feels when your disabled child is excluded. But also how wonderful it can feel to finally receive an invitation. (Sorry! The photos are a titch blurry. They were taken back before cell phones had decent cameras. 🤷‍♀️

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My daughter Avery is six and has never been to a children’s birthday party. She understands what a party involves. She’s had plenty of exposure to birthday cake, candles, balloons, ripping open birthday wrap, and whooping it up. But only ever with family at this point.

I’ve seen party invitations being handed out at school. But somehow, an invitation has yet to end up in Avery’s bright pink backpack. With another school year drawing to a close, I’m assuming at least one child in her class has had a birthday party this year? Maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps every child was born in the summer? (Yes, that was passive aggressive and sarcastic and bitterly immature. I’m owning that. This is just my frustration hissing out through my tightly clenched mama bear jaw.)

Clearly I’m affected by this. But Avery isn’t. Not directly anyway. She doesn’t realize she’s being excluded. Yet.

I may be too sensitive (or so I’ve been told) but I definitely feel the sting of rejection on her behalf.

I can’t force people to include her. It’s their choice. It needs to be their choice. So I say nothing. 

Though, I’d like to say this…

If there’s a disabled student in your child’s class, please don’t overlook them. You might assume they can’t attend a party due to mobility or behavioural issues. Maybe you think there’s a safety risk or that inviting this child adds responsibility to you as the host. Fair enough. But before you exclude them, consider asking the parent to come along to assist their child. I would say yes in a heart beat if a parent asked me to come along to a party venue to supervise and alleviate any responsibility for the party parent.

Inclusion is always possible.

Just think of the positive message about disability and inclusion this will send to your typical child and their friends. 

Life is a party and the celebration is so much sweeter when we open our hearts to everyone. 

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Her First Party Invitation

It happened. Finally, joyfully, my six year old atypical child received her first ever invitation to a typical peer’s birthday party.

She tore open the envelope and exclaimed wide eyed, “I party!”

“I so happy,” she said while I tried not to cry.

“Mummy sad?” she asked, looking concerned.

“No my sweet girl. I’m not sad. I’m thrilled. You deserve so much—fun and parties and all the great things that come with having friends who love you, for you.”

I want to tell the mom who sent the invitation, how much it means. I’m sure she has no idea what an emotional first this is for us. Avery has carried the invitation around with her all morning and won’t put it down. She wants to go out, like right now, to buy her friend a “Very big bir-day pwsent.”

The happiness on this child’s face and the excitement pulsing through her body reminds me, because sometimes I forget, that life always deserves to be celebrated. Party on big girl. ❤️

*I emailed the mom and explained how much this invitation meant and to sincerely thank her. I also hugged her (hard and possibly a tiny bit too long) at the party. 

**A decade later, I follow Tulsi, the birthday girl and Avery’s friend, on Instagram. And she’s just as caring and thoughtful now as she was back then. She’s the kind of person who will make a meaningful impact on the world. In my opinion, she already has.

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Let Them Eat Cake—Her Very First Party

The girl who had never been to a party can finally say, “I partied.” She’s been talking about going to her friend’s birthday party since the days she brought home the invitation. Which was a very good day by the way. 

She excitedly joined right in with the other kids. With a *teeny* bit of mummy’s help, she made jewelry with her friends and a sparkly tiara fit for a princess. 

And a jewelry box, coloured orange and dotted with gems.

And a bracelet which she refuses to take off.

Curious about the Princess cake, before I could stop it, she stuck a tiny finger in the icing.

 The picky eater who eats like a bird, happily sat (in one spot!) and ate a whole slice of pizza and beamed.

Then out came the cake. And where there is cake, there are bound to be candles.

This kid loves the flicker of a flame. Not like Drew. Birthday candles come with the promise of good times.

As the birthday girl got ready to make a wish, Avery inched closer…

…and closer

….until she had positioned herself right next to the cake and the birthday action. Up front and centre.

I worried she might try to blow out the candles. But she didn’t. She let the birthday girl blow them out while she made her wish. Avery didn’t need to make a wish. Hers already came true.

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