For the last several years I’ve been just a wee bit obsessed with rainbow-farting unicorns*. My friends have been more than helpful in sending me videos, pictures, GIFs, cartoons, you name it. I have quite the collection of images stored away, and they all make me laugh. I’d say that’s a good reason I’m always searching for a rainbow-farting unicorn, but not the only one.
For me, a rainbow-farting unicorn is a fluid metaphor for what I want and need for twice-exceptional kids. Things like societal recognition and acceptance (this includes the education system), accommodations for challenges in addition to deeper work for the intelligence, and (ohhh, the Holy Grail) a 2e kid with executive function skills that, you know, function. Things like that. Things that, if they suddenly appeared, would ride in on the back of a large unicorn, followed by a glittery rainbow emanating from the hindquarters of the aforementioned mythical creature. Just because I haven’t seen any of these with my own eyes doesn’t mean they don’t exist, so I continue to believe in rainbow-farting unicorns and can’t wait to see one of my own.
However, as with all good things, there is a dark side. My family gave me a birthday card last month, complete with a unicorn (A drew in the rainbow fart…he’s awesome). It had an amusing, yet ominous, message:
Crap. I hadn’t considered the sparkly unicorn poop. I guess if I had considered it, I would have assumed it smelled good, as sparkly unicorn poop should. But according to my birthday card…and we all know birthday cards don’t lie…sparkly unicorn poop smells like poop.
Dragging this crappy information (heh…my thesaurus gives “poop” as a synonym to information) back to my metaphor, I have to wonder what kind of droppings would follow the appearance of my rainbow-farting unicorn. If a 2e kid got accommodations plus deeper learning, and society recognized and accepted the child for who he is and not trivialized for what he cannot do, and suddenly the kid acquired razor sharp executive function skills…I can only assume said child would then bring about the zombie apocalypse with all he would be able to accomplish. So apparently magical unicorn poop = zombie apocalypse. You’ve been warned.
But I still want my unicorn. I just won’t feed it; nothing in, nothing out, no zombies. It’s a magical creature, it’ll be ok.
Just as long as it farts glittery rainbows.
*Once, just once, I would like to spell unicorn correctly the first time, instead of “unicron,” and then having to redo it. Everyone should have such problems.