Making the Pizza

The kids were going to Friday Fun Night at a local church and pizza was being served. On his way home from work Joe stopped by the commissary to pick up a frozen, gluten-free pizza for Kayla.

When he got home he put the pizza in the toaster-oven.

A few minutes later Kayla came downstairs and saw the toaster-oven was on and the pizza box sitting on the counter. She got excited and said to me, "Mom you making my pizza?!"

Since Joe was actually the one who put it in the toaster oven I just said to her "No, I'm not making your pizza."

She held up the pizza box, emphatically pointed at it and said, "YES! This pizza right here. That's my pizza! You making me pizza."

With a smile on my face, I again said, "No, I'm not making your pizza."

She looked at me for a few seconds, then she looked at Joe who was standing quietly in the kitchen, and exclaimed, "DAD! YOU making my pizza!!" and she laughed.

Typing this out, and reading it, I realize how absolutely insignificant that conversation sounds. But I kept saying to Joe that I loved that she 'got it.' She got that I was making a little joke; that I wasn't denying that pizza was being made, just that it wasn't me making her pizza.

I don't know if that was analytical or critical thinking skills, but whatever it was, it was one of those moments that, as a parent of a child with an intellectual disability, you celebrate. Even if the celebration was small - a knowing look between spouses, a smile left in your heart.