We are already fully into the snow and cold of winter here in Ottawa, Canada, and the snow is blowing outside as I apply layer onto layer of clothing onto my wiggling 8-year-old son. As I drop him off at school, his educational assistant takes in a gasp of cold air as she removes him from my vehicle. I do the same, too. Not from the cold, but from the aching anxiety I feel every day as I leave my child with severe disabilities at his inclusive public school. I wonder if I will receive a phone call to tell me that his behaviours are mounting, that he is not eating, or that his body is betraying him with symptoms and illnesses. I am anxious at the thought of children who ignore him, or worse, are unkind to him. The latter worry is usually the least significant because I have found that children who live and breathe inclusive environments are some of his best allies. Indeed, the research on inclusive educational environments has repeatedly demonstrated significant educational and socio-emotional benefits for children with and without disabilities. In essence, quality inclusion makes children better friends and citizens, it provides an academic “pull-up” effect to children with disabilities through peer modelling and supports, and builds prosocial skills (caring, empathy, maturity, and collaboration) among all children.