Tan and Pet (which means "duck" he would like everyone to know) doin' their paper mache thing. Pet is one of those kids who is the smartest and the fastest and the best at everything. It's weird because you totally forget that he only has one working leg (the other one is propped up on his crutch) and every once in awhile you're like, oh yeah, he's "disabled." Like when I played Simon Says with the kids and told everyone to jump in place and lift one leg. I freaked out right afterwards, but he totally did it AND won the second round. Of course. That's one of the fascinating things about hanging out at Rainbow House ... you forget most of the time, in the thick of things, that these kids are disabled. It makes you wonder what the word means, or our relationship to it. I mean, the kid with cerebral palsy, yeah, you don't forget. Although he's super bright. Shockingly so. And the blind girl (who Nancy is in love with and wants to adopt), you can't forget for too long, even though she's really smart too, because if you forget she gets left out of everything. But in general, it's just like hanging out with any kids, although they're better behaved. I think it's a much bigger deal that they live in an institution, even one as well managed as Rainbow House, than the fact that they are disabled somehow. Some of them have parents or families and I don't understand why they don't live with them. I don't know if it's because their families don't want them or hope that Rainbow House with all of its classes and occupational therapists and resources can take better care of them. I am slowly becoming a firm believer in family first, however. I mean, unless the family is abusive or rotten of course. But I think any of those kids would trade English class and computer class for a home and parents. Some of them have such a vast and bottomless need for attention, a need that I feel like I can't even come close to meeting in my few hours there once a week. With 26 of them. Okay, so I cry sometimes ... and I also over-dramatize! I mean, one day I was helping out the cerebral palsy kid with a puzzle, helping him push the pieces together with his feet and silently crying and I look up and he's having the time of his life. I'm sure he's like "wah wah you freak, push that puzzle piece over here already! We gotta finish Pooh's head!" I know people have said it so many times that it may not mean anything, but kids are so RESILIENT. It's eerie.