(For those who need RED print translated: “Something so tragic happened last night …. I can’t even talk about it )
(“Uh … Who told you to take the camera off me? I’m telling a story here.”)
(“As I was saying … It’s very emotional.”)
(“It started off with Jennie and her Franks. Not these … so don’t try to find this one to do something bad like suffocate it in a blanket and call it dinner for your kid.”)
So….. I was enjoying my time with Frank and then it wasn’t fun anymore. Frank went too far and it was hard to breathe. I started to choke. Mommy tried to help me, but she just wasn’t getting the job done.
First off, don’t ever blame the kid with a disability …. for anything …. ever. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. I’m innocent! Second, If anyone needs to go to save money in this house ….. it ain’t me.
It’s mommy’s fault because she makes my food at the right temperature and doesn’t give me ketchup. All those chemicals are bad for me. Boy….Was she off base? It’s like giving me matches, but not the paper.
It’s Daddy’s fault for not being home and making my lunch. He makes food so hot, I have to take a million tiny slow bites so my mouth doesn’t melt. And …. He gives me so much ketchup, it looks like a crime scene, but it makes the food slide down my throat.
But mostly it’s Daddy’s fault since Mommy always says she’s always right.
And there’s no way they’ll let me enter any hotdog eating contests. My life is over.
Cool? Spool? Uh….What?
Yeah….School. That’s what it sounded like.
No thanks! I’m kind of booked up. I’m hanging with my dog.
I’m running with sticks, but only sharp ones.
I’m working on my dance moves. You’d be surprised how much fine tuning they need.
(Okay…..That did not work.)
Plan A: (smile)
Plan B: (intimidate)
Plan C: (heartfelt plea) “Mommy. You already doubled my speech each week and just about quadrupled my OT. Aren’t you worried you might be overworking my fragile self? Plus, you know I’ll miss you. School can’t give hugs like you. And….you’re so pretty, even when you aren’t.”
Serious?! Three days a week??!! And you’re going to work with me at home too??!! Well…..I take back that pretty part.
THEN IT WAS THE MORNING OF THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL:
Uh…..So you slept on it and still think it’s a good idea?
Mommy. My dinosaur might attack you if I’m not home to hold him back.
(None of it worked, so I did what people nowadays seem to do to get what they want. I took my clothes off. ……. Mommy put them back on. I didn’t think that far ahead.)
He was caught at the scene of the crime trying to flush all evidence of Scott.
He denied all involvement, but it was clear that he was on something at the time.
Scott was everywhere, tousled around carelessly like freshly curled hair
I’ve never seen anything like this before. Clearly there was no remorse.
But…..We took him to trial…The glove didn’t fit, so we had to acquit.
(Scott tissue will be in our prays.)
Here it is:
I don’t know anything about being a parent to a child with down syndrome. I can’t tell you about parenting: a son with a lazy eye, a daughter with my sarcasm or a son who is an open nerve. BUT…..I do know…..
Beyond food, shelter and clothing, children need love, understanding, patience and guidance. It’s a parent’s job to help their children reach their full potential. Whatever that may be.
Okay Chicken….I’m no egg expert, but I’m pretty sure this is crazy big. Are you doing steroids? What are you hiding? What’s happening in that barn? And don’t even think of playing games with me!
Hey mommy. No. Everything’s fine here. The train? Don’t worry about that. The chicken and me are gonna play a little game on the tracks.
Don’t even think of clucking at my mommy when she walks away. We can always have chicken soup tonight. Have I made myself clear?
Did you miss me? I’ve been gone awhile. Just like with most stuff, it’s mommy’s fault. Maybe daddy’s fault too. I don’t know. It’s not mine. Do you want to hear all about my adventures? Okay….First…
Oh Shitake Mushroom…..Mommy is making me go to school. Guess you don’t get to hear my stories now. See what I mean. Not my fault!
When your child asks, what do you say?
“You’re only talking about the bees ‘cause the bird stuff is too cute?
It’s like going potty, but not really? The hospital?”
“You did what? And I come out of…….
STOP! STOP TALKING MOMMY!!!!!!!!”
Now let me get back to my business.
This chair is really cold and breezy.
You want me to do what? Without a diaper?
I got the ball.
I’m going for the pass.
And it’s up.
Another sweet catch.
The big game made me tired.
It’s hard being an athletic superstar.
But when you are…..
You can afford to buy big game, like elephants
…..and take naps with them.
Siegfried and Roy? Whatever!