The R Word

Could you just not say it? 

I rarely hear anyone use the word "retarded" anymore.  I don't know why.  I don't know if it's the people I hang out with or that the word has fallen out of favor with the general public, but either way, I am glad.

It's a hurtful word. 

You may think that when someone says, "That's so r-" or "I am so r-" that they aren't really thinking about people with cognitive disabilities.  It's just another word that means foolish or forgetful or uncool or dull.

But it's not.






According to dictionary.com, there are two definitions of "retard" that are disparaging slang:

1. a mentally retarded person
2. a person who is stupid, obtuse or ineffective in some way. 

I don't think Ben is stupid, obtuse or ineffective.  But he will likely have the diagnosis of mental retardation (now termed intellectual or cognitive disability).

When you use the word to describe yourself or a friend or a situation and you mean something negative, it reflects on my son.

Even if you don't mean it that way, could you choose to be kind and leave it out of your vocabulary? 

Today, Wednesday, March 6th, is Spread the Word to End the Word Awareness Day.  You can find more information here. 

  

This sweet, huggable, smart, funny, mischievous, completely adorable little boy

~ and his family ~

thank you.

 

Boys Are Different Than Girls

  

Today I got a call from the school right at 3 p.m.  I wondered if Evan had missed the bus or if I had forgotten a club meeting today.  Instead, the school nurse was on the phone.  She informed me that Evan had vomited in the restroom several times and then again in the classroom.

He went to the nurse’s office but since it was already the end of the school day, she just sent him home on the bus and gave me a call.

I could just imagine how embarrassed Evan must feel – I always hated getting sick at school.  I waited in front of our house for the bus to arrive.  Would my poor boy arrive with a look of shame on his face?  Would he be sweaty and pale? 

The bus pulled up.  Evan and the neighbor boys tumbled out.  Was he drooping?  No.  Pale?  Nope.  Fatigued?  Not really.

He sat on the couch and told me all about it.  He threw up 3 times in the bathroom and then threw up (“A LOT!” – he exclaimed enthusiastically) in the classroom trashcan.  I rubbed his back and made him a comfy spot on the couch.

“You know what the good news is, Mom?”

“What, honey?”

“I totally beat Luis’ record!  He threw up five times in one DAY, but I threw up four times in an HOUR!”

I guess when you’re an 8 year-old boy, that is good news.

Fortunately, he hasn’t had any stomach problems since he came home, and he doesn’t have a fever.  I’m hoping that whatever was bothering him is out of his system now. 

And I did ask if he and Luis had discussed the vomiting record PRIOR to Evan’s amazing feat.  I wouldn’t put it past him to rise to the challenge, if someone suggested it.  He has a real competitive streak.

He said that the subject didn’t come up until later.  (Whew.  I could just imagine the parent/teacher conference if he had been vomiting on purpose).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we picked Emmett up from work, both big kids were talking at the same time.   

Corrie was happy to see her Dad:  “Dad, could you tell me a high and low of your day?  Or a mad and sad?”

After Emmett answered Corrie’s question, he turned to Evan.  “What did you want to say, Evan?”

“I just had one question.  What is 15 times 300?”  

(I think he had been thinking about buying some special airship in a computer game).

Boys and girls are different.