Saturday, 13 August 2011


My daughter used to have a teaching assistant called Sheena.

Apparently, when she was at school, a certain Ramones’ song  was the bane of Sheena's life.

Fast forward 20 something years. Sheena the teaching assistant quite rightly thinks that the children in her class would not associate her name with a song from 1977.

Mwah, hah, hah. Not in our house, my dear. 

I have never seen my daughter quite so excited and so energetic before or since we played her this and pointed out it must be about her Sheena. The idea that Sheena had her own ‘shouty’ song appealed to something in my girl’s very core.

When my daughter was diagnosed with Prader-Willi Syndrome, when she was too weak as a baby to lift her head, and when I thought she'd never gain the strength to walk, I was I could have known that one day she would be pogoing like Zebedee after a double espresso.

Admittedly, after this danceathon she was so tired she had a two and a half hour catatonic nap and was pretty much wiped out for the next day, too.

But for a couple of minutes here, my daughter wasn't disabled. She wasn't different. She was an over-excited little girl, like any other, having about as much fun as it is possible for a little girl to have.

Hey, ho, let's go.

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