Kelly Wassenberg of Wells is the Tribune’s news clerk.

It wasn’t that long ago that I was in a rush to get home from the hospital with my son. My mother-in-law was on her way to meet her first grandchild, and I wanted the opportunity to tidy up before she arrived. My husband, Richard, merged onto I-90 only to find himself staring at the tailend of a purple Grand Am with Wyoming tags. He passed his mom, and she followed us the rest of the way from Albert Lea to Wells.

The memory of that day has remained clear, despite the 17 years that have transpired since. The notion that time has slipped by so quickly takes my breath away. It’s stolen once again by another thought. The man I always hoped my son would be is the man he has become.

Granted, my idea of a man might be different than others. As a parent to a special needs child, I feel my view of things has been irrevocably shattered in the best way possible.

You see, once upon a time I faced a conundrum of epic proportions — I had unconditional love for one child while knowing her older sibling, whom I loved just as deeply, was missing out on some of the most basic of childhood joys because her needs demanded more time than there were hours in the day.

Back then, I would have given anything to find a way to manage giving Brandon a “normal” childhood while still meeting the challenges of his sister’s care. That time has come and gone and I am thankfully left with no regret.

Over time I think we all must realize that where we are at this moment in time is a direct result of the past. Brandon is the person he is today because of the trials and tribulations of his yesterday.

The preschooler whose teacher pointed out that he couldn’t “discriminate on the playground” became the boy who earned the title of being the most compassionate student his kindergarten teacher had taught during her 40-year tenure. The grade-schooler whose teacher said would give his right arm to anyone became the middle-schooler who not only refused to retaliate against the student that hit him in an unprovoked attack, but put himself between his assailant and the girl who became the student’s next target.

He became the teen who spent a summer volunteering at a children’s hospital with kids with complex medical issues and varying levels of disabilities only to become their youngest recipient of its Volunteer of the Month Award at 13. He became the teen who publicly stood up for a victim of bullying whom he hardly knew, even though he considered the bully a friend.

He became my rock when our beloved lab mix experienced a medical emergency. Calmly sweeping the 90 pound dog in his arms, he gently placed her in the back seat so we could race her to the vet. He was just as gentle when he took the keys from my hand so he could drive us home after I was forced to have to put her to sleep.

I always knew the remark about playground discrimination was meant to be a hint; it is by educational standards a sign of social immaturity. Children are supposed to want to play with children of the same age and sex.

My son’s playground has grown into a much bigger world. Social groups have expanded far beyond play groups, yet I’m happy to say that my son has not changed. He’s just as kind, polite and respectful to his principal as he is the kindergarteners. He’s just as happy to share a conversation with a peer as he is to talk to an underclassman in a wheelchair who responds to the sound of his voice, but will never be able to offer him a reply. He sees the differences between each of the people he encounters, just as he did on his childhood playground, he just knows they don’t matter.

I’m convinced that the lessons Brandon learned on how to be were just as valuable as the ones he received from witnessing the harsh stares and rude comments of strangers towards his sister — because they taught him how not to be.

Not everyone has the benefit of having a special needs sibling in their life, but I think the world would be a much better place if we all acted like he did. Our children’s realities include anti-bullying symposiums and active shooter drills in schools. I can’t help but to think that if we changed our thinking, we could help change this trend. Playgrounds are no place for discrimination; they never were. We should all strive for children who will play with another child despite their age, despite their sex and despite the potential presence of a disability in hopes of creating a society of adults who can all get along despite their differences.