Anytime I start a blog with an apology for anyone that I might offend, I usually put myself in a hole that I spend the rest of the post trying to dig my way out of.
Today is no different.
Let me first say that I applaud “Special” people.
I have a relative who is “special”.
I don’t care for him, but at least I have some sort of connection to that world.
I am in a Starbucks that I don’t normally visit, and I am beginning to see why.
I was in line for maybe 30 seconds when John and Morgan-James came in with their mom.
How do I know its there names?
Because mom immediately began yelling their names before she had even reached the line.
“John, don’t you let your brother bite that coffee cup, its not his!”
“Morgan-James! Is that any way to act? you sit down right now!”
And those are just a few.
I only got a quick glance at the kids. John was a skinny kid with dark hair and a nervous habit of keeping his hands around his mouth.
Morgan-James I only saw from behind. Big head, doesn’t own a comb and picks his ass a lot.
I got my coffee, got my cream and sugar on, and found a seat.
For the most part, Mom was oblivious to the rampaging of her kid.
I say kid because the big kid, Morgan-James, was a little beast. 4 feet of chubby trouble.
And the other kid got yelled at for what I can see was simply standing there.
The only available seat was on the opposite side of the room for the kids.
And then Morgan-James began running laps.
It was on his first lap that he finally came close enough to get a look at.
Suddenly, the size of his head made sense.
Severe Down’s Syndrome.
Now I am confused as to why mom is so hands off.
I have met a few people with Down’s Syndrome before.
The busboy at one of my favorite 24 hour cafe’s has it.
No place better to write in the middle of the night.
Big kid named Robbie. Stutters a bit, but loves my sci fi stories, so when he works, I read to him and he loves it.
Don’t assume this provides me with a soul and a sensitive side, I am frequently cruel for no reason, but I like the kid.
Back to Morgan-James, DS dervish.
Mom finally got involved when Morgan-James finished running one of his laps, bent over trying to catch his breath and suddenly stood up straight, grabbed John, who is about half his weight, and began to throttle him by the throat.
And then he kept doing it.
I got out of my chair and was halfway across the room when Mom slapped his hands down.
For a hefty lady, she has the hand speed of a contender.
John all but collapsed on the floor, gasping for air.
And then she did it.
She apologized to Morgan-James for hitting his hands.
And chewed John out for teasing his brother, which he hadn’t, I was watching.
This kid’s a fucking menace.
In an awkward moment of both silence in the room and roaring sound in my head, I had a moment of clarity.
I had said that out loud.
Time to go.
There are very few social situations that turn out well when you curse out a mother with children, regardless of the situation.
I grabbed my coffee and headed for the door.
Its a stupid move to look at her, but I did.
And almost stopped in place.
The look on her face was one of resignation……..and agreement. Complete with a slight head nod and shoulder shrug.
As I went thru the door, I was seized by the thought that life can force some crappy situations on you and, while your reactions might not be perfect, they are all you have.
Play the hand you’re dealt, no matter how shitty it is.
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