If you haven’t yet gone to see “Finding Dory” — Go see it. I am by no means a movie critic, but I would recommend this movie to any parent of any child. The fact that it’s geared towards children is, in my opinion, simply an added bonus.

The movie begins with an insight into some of the struggles that Dory has. Whether or not you can relate to someone that has the same struggles–in her case it was battling memory loss–you will be able to relate to the fact that Dory has special needs that you cannot see from just looking at her from the outside. This aspect was made clear through various points in the movie: For instance, when she begins to talk to strangers or tries to make a new friend, and within minutes she is getting weird looks and comments, all simply because of a disability that she didn’t chose for herself and that she doesn’t have any control over. Sound familiar?

It’s rare that I am able to read an article, watch a book, or talk to someone who is able to change my perspective or give me a sense of, “You know what? Everything really is going to be OK.” But in an hour and a half, this movie managed to do it.

I had no idea what Dory’s background or storyline would be when I took my girls to see it, so I wasn’t expecting anything overly profound. Yet, without intending to do so, suddenly I wasn’t watching a fish anymore–I was watching my daughter. I was able to step back and see her in someone else; see her struggles and how they affect her daily. I could see how people reacted to her–both positively and negatively–and how those opinions affected her (or in this case, didn’t). I watched children laugh and play with her and adults who had less patience than the kids. I saw how so much of that rolled off her back and how often.

Specific challenges can, in many ways, affect the parent so much more than the child. I watched her play, laugh, be happy and confident, and not take it personally when some of the kids preferred to play elsewhere. I saw strong new friendships form despite her struggles and, most importantly for me, I was able to see how with the patience and love of people who care, it’s totally possible for “everything to be OK.”

We really were all created differently. Dory was just as lovable and just as smart (if not more so) as any other ‘fish in the sea’ and that was pretty fun and refreshing to watch.

I found myself thinking that, as parents, because we care so much, we tend to focus on the struggles that we see, and the differences that we notice. Kids themselves don’t always read situations, circumstances and events like we do. In my experience, children learn, grow and adapt to how they’ve been made, just like we do. And, while we can be uncomfortable watching them play by themselves in a group setting, or preferring to read alone instead of going out–they’re not uncomfortable. They’re fine. They’re happy. They’re doing what they want to do, the way they want to do it. And to be honest, that’s pretty awesome.

I was reminded this week to accept our kids as they are and appreciate them for their differences. I am understanding more and more every day that just because they struggle with things that we may not, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t going to grow up and be just fine.

I debated writing this post at all. I know it comes across as what should just be common sense. But I did write it down because I wanted to be reminded of it myself. Because when I’m in the thralls of parenting–changing routines, introducing new people and attending new events–immediate concerns and challenges can seem overwhelming and I forget to look at the bigger picture, to take a step back and remind myself of this. Some days she is growing up faster than I can even believe it and some days I feel like we’re stuck. Regardless of any of that, she’s funny, she’s happy, she’s going to be OK. And so am I.

His name was George. He was always a mess. His shirt was perpetually untucked and his hair was always all askew. He had the bad habit of picking his nose chronically and, like his fairytale predecessor “Georgie Porgie,” he did actually chase the girls to kiss them. He had no friends that I remember.

I went to grade school with George, and had forgotten about him for years, until I started worrying about my own child. You see, my daughter is totally unlike me socially. I tend to be relatively shy at first, especially in crowds. I prefer to hang back and assess a room, judging who to approach to strike up a conversation. My son is just like me in this behavior. My daughter is not. She’s more like George.

She tends to just jump right into any situation, talking. It’s been her approach to life since she could move on her own. Her toddler years found me on constant alert, as she explored the world around her with no sense of danger or self-preservation. This led to many stories we laugh about now, but I’m pretty sure my hair started going grey during those years. As stressful as it was, she had a zest for life that I couldn’t help but marvel at and admire. It was a joy to just watch her.

Before she was even in kindergarten, I guessed that the school years wouldn’t be easy ones for her. With the over-emphasis on core curriculum and testing, there’s little room for creativity and play. And kids like my daughter thrive on both imagination and movement. The early years of grade school were hard ones for her, as a kid who had what I call “ants-in-the-pants-itis.” It was hard for her to focus when her body wasn’t in motion. She loved to just shout out answers instead of waiting to be called on, and had no problem telling the other students they were wrong when they were.

As the wife and daughter of teachers, I empathized with her teachers and did my best to talk to her about what was, and what was not, acceptable. Not only in a classroom setting, but in any social setting as well. But as the mother of a child who obviously learned differently, I also wanted to protect her sense of self and hated the idea of having anybody trying to hammer down my square child into a round hole.

She learned gradually and, by fifth grade, had mastered classroom etiquette while bringing home good grades. Social etiquette, and especially interaction with her peers, however, was nowhere near as successful. Girls can be cruel, and especially pre-teen girls. Although she’d talk about her friends, she didn’t seem to be invited to many parties or sleepovers or even casual get-togethers. And I knew these were happening, because I’d see the photos that these girls’ moms were posting on social media.

I was never a cruel child and I have no memories of ever being mean to George. But I know that I didn’t go out of my way to be kind to him either. Yet here I sit, yearning for kids to be kind to my child. My child who can be loud, who loves to sing to herself, and whose hair is so very often a mess. And you know what?

I wonder if George’s mom’s heart broke too.

– By an Anonymous Mom.