Once embarrassed by her disability, Lilly Box, 6, ‘transformed’ into confident basketballer thanks to Telethon

When Lilly was three years old, she began asking her grandmother the kind of questions that break a heart in two.

“Why am I different? Why don’t I have two legs?”

Born without a tibia, a shorter fibula, and eight toes on her foot, Lilly’s family faced an uphill battle from the very beginning.

Her grandmother, Mardie Box, who has raised her full-time since she was 18 months old, remembers the early years as a blur of medical appointments and quiet heartbreak.

Lily underwent her first leg amputation at 12 months and a second just before her second birthday after her bone broke through her growth plate.

“She was walking on a prosthetic after she had her first amputation, and then just before her second birthday, she was just walking along, and her leg just went out like a chicken bone,” Ms Box said.

“What had happened is the bone had gone through the growth plate, so literally two days later, we’re having the amputation carried out.

“I know it sounds really funny, but the second amputation was the best thing we ever did — as soon as she woke up, she was like, ‘Sore’s gone,’ kissed her stump, and when she saw her surgeon, she was so excited because she’d obviously been in lots of pain, which we didn’t know about.”

Back then, the little girl would insist on wearing floor-length dresses to cover her prosthetic, terrified that people at the playground were staring.

“She realised when she was about three that she’s different, and she started asking questions that were a bit hard to explain to a three-year-old,” Ms Box said.

“When we’d go to the park, she’d say, ‘Let’s go home, Nanna, I want to go home, people are staring at me, people are looking at my legs.’”

When Ms Box tried to enrol her in local sports, door after door slammed shut.

“We had reached out to so many people, and we got knocked back because they didn’t want to take Lilly on,” Ms Box said.

“Most able-bodied places didn’t want to know her.”

Then came Whiz Kidz.

Funded by Telethon and run by Rebound WA, Whiz Kidz is a specialised grassroots program designed to get primary school children with physical disabilities moving, playing, and building confidence.

Now six, Lilly has transformed.

“When she started, the first couple of weeks were tough. She’d sit on the porch, she’d cry, she didn’t want to be around people,” Ms Box said.

“Now she’s the loudest. She’s the youngest, but she’s the loudest and the fastest.

“She gets up earlier than me on a Saturday morning because she is so excited to go.”

At Whiz Kidz, the focus isn’t on limitations — it’s on playing basketball.

“Once everyone’s in their chair, they’re all the same. It’s just kids having fun,” Ms Box said.

“She takes her leg off in front of people now, it doesn’t bother her anymore. Her dresses aren’t long anymore and she’s happy to wear shorts. Whiz Kidz has given her so much confidence.”

Rebound WA chief executive officer Simon Mead and program coordinator Sam Starkie see the same transformation in different kids every year.

“The magic of this program is that it gives these kids an opportunity to really play or give it a go,” Mr Mead said.

For the families, the program offers them a community.

“Having that connection between parents who are going through similar situations is just really valuable,” Mr Starkie said.

“It’s like one big family.”

And within the Rebound WA family are real-life heroes who the newcomers look up to.

None bigger than 16-year-old wheelchair basketball star Ebony Stevenson.

Stevenson’s rise was meteoric.

By 13, she earned a Western Australian Institute of Sport scholarship and by 14, she was representing Australia on the international stage.

Recently named the WAIS Young Athlete of the Year, she was the youngest member of Team Australia at the Commonwealth Games 3x3 competition, bringing home a bronze medal.

Despite her elite trajectory, Stevenson regularly returns to Whiz Kids to mentor the next generation.

“Being around Lilly today, it’s such a huge step — not only for wheelchair basketball, but for young girls who are a bit different,” Stevenson said.

“We’re creating an environment where we give kids the platform to explore themselves, love themselves, and just be themselves. It’s so exciting.”

For Ms Box, watching her active six-year-old — who now tackles everything from trampolining to swimming — run around alongside athletes like Stevenson offers a clear vision of the future.

“We’ve been very, very blessed to have Whiz Kidz,” she said.

“It’s opened so many doors for us. To see her so confident now . . . it’s just amazing.”