You see my son and your brain tells you there's something a little different. You look at him a little longer than the other kids to figure out why he seems a little off. Then you see it. The jerky movements and awkward positions match up to a picture in your brain of the kids you've seen but never interacted with. You look away.
After looking more intently at my son than any other child, you then cease to see him. You've been told not to look, not to stare, so you don't. You're a good person. You don't want him treated any differently.
But here's the thing. He is different. He is interesting. You are allowed to be curious about that. Your children are allowed to be curious about that.
You will have questions. Ask them. You will have kids try to play with him or his equipment. Allow them. It's OK. His body is made of flesh — he won't break any easier than your child. His walker is made of steel, it won't break.
I bring my son to the playground so that he can play with other children. Let them.