By Josie Kelly
As the holidays approach, most of us fondly remember the games and toys of our childhood. The anticipation of tearing open wrapping paper to find a new toy, and the pleasure of mastering the new skills such toys represent, are universal. Children with disabilities are no different, even if the toys we found under our wrapping paper weren’t always the same as the toys of other kids. While “Big Wheels” were making a commotion roaming the sidewalks in my neighborhood in the late 1970s and early 1980s, I was making my own noise on my “Sit ‘n’ Spin” and mesmerizing myself with the constant swirling.
One fad that I did have in common with my peers was the video game craze. Conquering hand and eye coordination was all the rage. Instead of competing in batting practice, it was all about getting the chase on with “Ms. Pac Man.” In some respects kids with disabilities were the lucky ones. The choice between buying a new bike and getting the latest video system was a no-brainer for our folks: it was video games, and along with that came the envy of all my friends. Between board games, Rubik’s Cube®, Crayola Caddy® and Atari, my home was the place to be.
Don’t get me wrong. There were activities that were more difficult for a kid with spina bifida like me than for others. On the playground, I was a “swing hog” and thought the slide was overrated. Let’s face it: waiting in line, climbing those steps for a lousy three-second ride—who wouldn’t agree with that logic?
A disability sometimes liberates you to change the rules of the games to suit your needs. For instance, we altered hide-and-seek and tag: you couldn’t run away if you heard the sound of crutches pitter-pattering toward you. Instead of playing “Simon Says,” I opted for the electronic version of Simon. The blinking lights were more challenging to follow anyway. Outdoors games I could play with no adaptations included “Mother, May I?” and “Red Light, Green Light.”
Parents are key teachers in the art of play, and this is never truer than when it comes to making crafts for any child. The oven was off limits in everyday life-but not during craft time. It was necessary to complete such interesting projects as making “Shrinky Dinks” and “sun catchers.” After they let you slip the sheet onto the rack, Mom or Dad might even let you turn the knob to light the oven. I loved looking through the lighted oven window watching the Dinks shrink and the crystals melt.
Sometimes, even a wheelchair or crutches could be turned into a game. “Pop-a-wheelie” contests were so popular in my neighborhood. Surprisingly, a kid who uses a wheelchair doesn’t always win. The crutch long jump was also a big outdoor crowd pleaser. It’s simple: everyone takes turns using two crutches and whoever makes the longest jump wins.
Thinking back on all of the toys, crafts, and games I played with are precious memories that I carry with me to this day. These are moments that I share with my able-bodied childhood friends, just because there weren’t any children with disabilities in my neighborhood. What’s interesting is that I don’t think much about how I adapted to play. Just that I played.
Nowadays, when I talk to kids with disabilities, it’s always interesting to hear about their favorite things to do. The core of being a kid is having fun. I constantly smile when the first thing that comes out of their mouth has to do with a favorite toy, a new game they learned, or games they play with their friends. Identifying that they have a disability is obviously a part of who they are and needs to be embraced, but being a child with a disability is, above all, about being a kid first.
Josie Kelly is a writer who lives in Pennsylvania.
