I am not an infant...

...I'm a real grown-up! OK, it's not as good as the line in The Prisoner. Bite me. But I'm making a serious point, here. My friends and I were just sitting in my mate's house, minding our own business, when one of her neighbours came in and was chatting away, 19 to the dozen. Exactly how old does one have to be, if one is disabled, before people stop talking to you as if you are a babe in arms? She referred to our wheelchairs as "little scooters". Grr. I was wearing a quite a large t-shirt, as I'm quite a large gal, which was referred to as something like "your little England shirt". And we got the "why don't you have electric chairs?" discussion. I'm sure there were other things, but I probably zoned out... HONESTLY - we're adults, and we'd like to be treated as such, if it's all the same to you. Now, where did I put my dummy?