The Wisdom Of An 8 Yr-Old

(Appeared in Kerygma Magazine, 2nd quarter 2008)


The whole family was abuzz with activity that weekend. There was an extra-special reason to convene after Sunday Mass and the big family lunch that followed. My sister-in-law’s Filipino-American cousin just flew in to begin training as an “import” of the Philippine Women’s Basketball Team in preparation for the Southeast Asian Games in Thailand.

True to "Pinoy" (Filipino) rah-rah fashion, the whole family (by affinity and consanguinity included) with little kids in tow, packed into two vans and trooped to a sports complex at The Fort to watch her first game on Philippine soil. Never mind that it was just for an exhibition match, we there to cheer our hearts out for the women’s team pitted against the Filipino-Indian men’s basketball team.

I looked forward to the game for two reasons: first, I was then trying to decide on an extra-curricular activity for my son, Julian, and I wanted to see how he took to the game of basketball; and second, it had been a good month since he was last with his cousins.

The match had all the trimmings of a PBA game. Loud buzzers, blaring music, and fans a-frenzy. Family members took turns taking Julian’s 7-year old cousin out of the gym and onto the lobby for his much-needed “breaks.” Joaquin has ADHD (Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder) and sometimes, too much excitement can make him “act out.” While we had grown accustomed to his ways, we didn’t want to impose on others who are often distracted and made uncomfortable by his sudden outbursts.

I admit though that in the last few weeks, I had began to worry about the increasing number of questions my 8-year old asks about his cousin. “I wonder why he whines and cries all the time, Mommy. Why is it hard for me to get him to listen to what I am saying?”

Probably sensing a double standard, Julian also begun to question why he can’t do the same things we often tolerate with Joaquin. If he knew the term “double standard,” I am sure he’d have used it to argue his case.

I told myself, one of these days I will have to sit down with Julian and explain how “different” Joaquin is. Meanwhile, I just kept asking him to be the patient “kuya” (older brother).

The day before, I reminded Julian to look after Joaquin. I admit that at times I fear he would make an unguarded comment about Joaquin that would make my brother and sister-in-law uncomfortable. I wanted to start my son on a “politically-correct” path with individuals with special needs.

Fortunately, Joaquin didn’t have many outbursts that night, except when the spectators made a beeline for the exits after the game. We managed to calm him down as quickly as when the tantrum started. Nevertheless, we still got our usual side-glances from a few of those who had seen him.
That bedtime, I asked Julian if he thought his best buddies in school would like to meet his cousin. I was thinking of setting play dates with the boys and inviting Joaquin so he would get a chance to interact with boys his age.

I casually asked my son, “What would you say if one of your friends ask why Joaquin behave the way he does?” I was worried that it’d make him uncomfortable. But no, he simply said, “That’s OK, Mommy. I’ll tell them that it’s something Joaquin’s body does and he couldn’t do anything about it.”

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