More Alike Than Different

Well, the rain has finally set in (this is the front of our house) and, while we are not nearly as flooded as some, we are indeed stuck at home because they have closed off the Charleston peninsula.  Here's now it looks downtown:

So we are stuck at home, and I am, like the mother of any other 4-year-old, bored out of my skull.  Your Daddy has been up since 4, so I can't imagine how he feels, but I got up at 8:45, we ate breakfast together, we went potty and brushed our teeth, and then we watched Dora, a show that you love (and a show that, you will learn, is difficult for adults to watch for hours on end).  So we thought we'd try a movie, School of Rock.  You  sort-of liked the rock and roll parts but weren't interested in more of it, and you kept saying "DOH!", which means "put the Dora back on, damnit!"  

So then I tried giving you a bath, but that was only a half an hour, so we still had time to kill.  Daddy played a "letter game" with you--you're doing great at learning your letters!--we had lunch, we even called Nagyi in Hungary, and it's now only 1:30.

I put you down for a nap but you're crying, so I'm not sure this is gonna be happen.

And I have NO IDEA what else I can do with you for the day.

Does this sound familiar to parents of toddlers, or those of you who used to have todders?  I'm sure it does, because I've heard it from my friends with kids all of the time.  But it also made me think about the fact that this a a universal parenting experience--there is nothing in this boring story that would make anyone think that you have Down Syndrome, that you have "special needs," that you are different.  It's just a story of trying to occupy a toddler on a rainy day and, as boring as it it, it gives me comfort, makes me feel like I am one of many going through the same interminable day.  And it reminds me of the old saying that, when it comes down to it, people with DS--or any disability--are "more alike than different."