This evening after the kids and I had gotten home for the day, Josie went across the street to play with a friend, Moses went downstairs to the basement, and I started putting away dirty dishes and mentally figuring out what needed to get done this evening.

I heard Moses coming up the stairs carrying something that was banging around. When he got to the top and walked past where I was standing in the kitchen, I noticed it was the little case that holds Josie’s tea set. Usually he’ll just bring up one or two cups and the teapot, and he’ll fill up the teapot with water and then pour it into the cups.

He’s been doing this for a couple of months, and his process is pretty cute: He walks around to the back of the sink to turn on the water because he can reach the handle from there without a step. Then he goes back around to the front of the sink where he has a step set up and he fills up the teapot. Then he walks around again to the back of the sink to turn the water off. (Yes, I realize he’s wasting water, and for these purposes, I’m totally okay with that.)

So I really didn’t think much of him bringing up the entire case, nor when I heard the water being turned on and off. At this point I had gone into my bedroom to change clothes and sit on my bed to scroll through Instagram for a minute (or 5).

The next thing I knew, Moses came into the room saying, “It’s ready!” He walked over, grabbed my hand, and led me out of the room. I asked him, “What’s ready? The water?” He nodded and said, “Uh huh.” He took me into the dining room where I saw that he had not just poured water for the two of us, he had put a cup at each chair and had poured water in all of them.

He was so proud of himself as he pulled out a chair and patted it for me to sit down. He was so annoyed with me as I took a picture to capture this sweet result of his thoughtful brain.

I took a drink of the delicious water he had poured, and then he took the cup from me and finished the rest.

Then he walked away, satisfied with his work and that I had enjoyed it, and came back with his Kindle to let me know he was done with me.

I thought my heart would burst thinking about the thought he put into this endeavor.

And I couldn’t help but to think about the doctors who told parents to send their babies with Down syndrome to institutions where they would be kept “comfortable” as they would never be able to live a quality life according to their standards. Or the parents that listened and missed out on knowing the beautiful human that was gifted to them.

I can’t help but to think of the doctors even today that find no value in a baby with the wrong number of chromosomes. Or the parents who take the advice of those doctors, and even friends and family members, and abort a baby that could have Down syndrome and hope for a “normal” baby next time.

My heart hurts for those perfect babies and children that never got a chance to show exactly how amazing they were and just what they really were capable of doing. Who never got a chance to let their light shine. I hate it for the parents who missed out on the perfect tea party because of misconceptions and stereotypes that still plague people with Down syndrome.

As I walked around the table wiping up the spilled water around the cups so thoughtfully placed at each seat, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face because here is a little boy that not too long ago would’ve been assumed to be able to do little more that breathe on his own, planning and setting up a tea party anyone would be lucky to get to join.