Flummoxed. Are conjoined twins disabled. Can’t breathe through my nose. Am I disabled. Don’t often stumble over my words. Large audiences fine. 34 Cubs are clearly another matter. Gaining their disability awareness badge. Melded into that group my 9 year old son. Pressure. How should he act when we arrived. As you normally do. Reply. We are always late so I don’t know. Ouch.

The disability conversation is happening at an early age. A thirst for information. Such eloquent answers to what is disability. Asthma. Mental health. Dyslexia. Autism. Said with such assurance. Clearly rooted in current lived experience. A duty for us to engage with answers. Including the difficult ones.

Promised Son no mention of Purple Tuesday. Instead. Car adaptions. Work desk that goes up and down. Pen in mouth to write. Same method to operate mobile phone. Did I want arms. No. Because I would no longer be me. Things disable. Not me. 34 light bulbs popped. Connection made.

Next 15 minutes them telling themselves practical things they would / could do. Make friends with disabled children in their class. I raised the importance of saying hello to all disabled people. Not to back away. My mum told me not to speak to strangers. Ouch again.

The lived experience of disability is in safe hands with this generation.

Two ouch Tuesday.