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Caring for kids?

Why would a group of women be out on a cold dreary October morning, waving placards or, some would say, tilting at windmills? And certainly, we ask, why would they have two tiny girls with them, each barely able to see over the signs they hold with s

Why would a group of women be out on a cold dreary October morning, waving placards or, some would say, tilting at windmills? And certainly, we ask, why would they have two tiny girls with them, each barely able to see over the signs they hold with such glee?

The answer is both simple and sad. The women are there because of cuts that will directly affect the quality of life of the tiny tots and the legions of special needs children in our province.

In an effort to save money in an ever-increasing medical/education budget, the government has decided to do away with intensive intervention programs for autistic children. The provincial staff that provides direction for community infant development programs will soon be history. And so will the supported child care office, which was only recently created to resolve problems in consistency in local programs. And the bully boys and girls in Victoria are in such a hurry to get rid of this service staff that they have been given only one month's notice - insufficient time to allow for transfer of roles, protocols and resources.

And the list of cuts doesn't stop there. Special Olympics have taken a hit - perhaps the ultimate irony in the pre-Olympic frenzy whipping our province these days. Child protection and childcare have had budget cuts. And a program to decrease the number of children born with fetal alcohol spectrum disorder is on the chopping block.

And other much-needed services to assist children with Down syndrome and support for young adults who, by an arbitrary IQ measurement, are not eligible for added assistance are falling by the wayside - a stab in the back for the hard-working Community Living folks who live in our province. In spite of all the best efforts of these advocates, we continue to treat developmentally challenged adults as second-class citizens.

Merrily Corder, the infant development consultant who works under the auspices of the Sunshine Coast Community Services Society, was one of the women protesting on Oct. 28. She has been the only person doing this valuable work for the past 18 years on the Sunshine Coast. Corder is devastated by the cuts. She calls them a harsh blow to rural communities such as ours. She bemoans the upcoming lack of support from the provincial office, a lack that will leave enormous holes in the standardization of service throughout B.C.

Do we want to be known as a society that places such low value on children and at-risk young people? We hope the answer isn't blowing in the cold October wind.