"Oh no! What happened to his leg?"

This question, this scenario, the attention that would be brought to his leg. All of this was the single most feared thing I battled with last fall when we first got the CP diagnosis. How would I handle it? How would I teach Elliott about what he has? How would I field these questions and either navigate how to brush it off like it's no big deal, or own it with pride, or a mix of both, or neither? There is no rule book for this, and I don't know the best way to handle it.

All of these thoughts paralyzed me.

Within the first 24 hours of Elliott getting his cast, we were asked that question twice. It was the moment where the rubber meets the road, and I had to figure out how I was going to handle this situation.

"He has Cerebral Palsy, and this cast helps to get his foot in the right position before he gets a brace."

I decided to go with the famous motto of Dwight Schrute from The Office:

K.I.S.S. -- Keep It Simple Stupid

What I am realizing is that confidence starts with us. If I can own his Cerebral Palsy diagnosis, then he will learn that he can too. If I can teach him that this is a condition he has, but in no way needs to slow him down or define him, then why would he grow up thinking differently?

One night, lying in bed, I thought of ways to teach this truth to Elliott, and this was the best comparison I could come up with...

Some kids have good vision, and some kids have bad. Some need glasses, some need contacts, and some don't need anything at all. Having poor eyesight doesn't change who a person is or what they can accomplish. Having glasses or not doesn't make anyone different.

The same goes for Cerebral Palsy.

Some people wear braces on one or both legs, use walkers, or use wheelchairs. All cases look different. Having a brace or not doesn't make anyone different.

The bottom line is that it doesn't matter. A leg brace does not need to be any different than wearing glasses. Ultimately, they help us become the best version of ourselves, and that is part of what makes us unique.

It's simple, it's honest, and it's something that I can live by and, therefore, teach my son to live by, too.

As he learns how to navigate this diagnosis on his own, one of my biggest prayers is that when he is asked the question:

"What happened to your leg?" or, "Why do you have a brace?"

He will simply and confidently be able to say that he has Cerebral Palsy and let it be just that.

There is no need to feel shame, guilt, or embarrassment about the fact that he may be 'different.' Everyone has their differences, and as a 32-year-old adult, I am reminded of that simple truth once again by my powerhouse, badass kid.

He has a cast to help him with his Cerebral Palsy — that is what happened to his leg.

K.I.S.S.