In light of the events of the last week and a half, I decided Saturday to get a little bit brave myself. Nothing by comparison, of course, but this was big for me.

I sat for two hours and stared at adults with developmental disabilities.

Don’t worry, it was entirely appropriate — a production by Detour, a local theater company for adults with a wide range of special needs. They were all fantastic, performing two plays and holding a standing-room-only crowd’s attention for more than two hours.

You can learn more about Detour and its amazing founder, Sam, here.

I’ll be honest: It was not always easy to watch. I’ve barely dipped my toe in, when it comes to even thinking about the challenges of having an adult daughter with Down syndrome. And so I stared extra hard at the cast members with DS, wondering what their lives are like, where they live, are they happy? Most of them seemed to be that tamped down version of themselves — what I notice when I spy on Megan the bagger, in line at my Safeway. They have been trained to contain that crazy joy that explodes from Sophie, causing her to announce loudly last night in a Thai restaurant, “I just went poo poo!” Or to ask my loudly in Goodwill for her own bra. Or to tell me in Safeway that I have a “warm butt”.

I agree with Sophie that sometimes a good “poo poo” is truly a cause for celebration — and I get that you can’t announce that over someone else’s curry. And I suppose this theater thing is a method of channeling that energy in a good way. I get it.

I’m still not quite ready for it, though I was proud of myself for attending Detour. The first show was called “Honk” — an all-too appropriate ugly duckling tale. The players were cast marvelously, so that everyone had a role, and the leads were pretty terrific. It didn’t take me long to realize something, though it took me a while to smirk to myself that this was clearly a cosmic message.

The woman playing the Mama Duck was blind. Literally.