Children of the 2K's

So here's the deal...

I've got three kids. Love them. Love them like nothing else on this planet. Two boys and a girl. My kiddos.

Doug is the oldest, just turned 10 in April. Now, THAT in an of itself is probably not so terrifying. And truth be told, I'm not that scared. But I get worried. I'm in my mid-30's. My oldest is starting his second decade. I'm unemployed and the boy eats like food grows on trees... ah... wait a sec... Ok, so MAYBE food DOES grow on trees, but if someone would tell me where the Wonder Bread tree grows in my neighborhood, I'd be greatly appreciative.

Jon is the youngest. He turns three in September. Ladies and germs, if you have NEVER butted heads with a two-year-old in the midst of potty training, you are missing out on the fight of your life. Forget financial arguments or sex arguments or who-took-the-trash-out-last fights. You know NOTHING of argument until you try to match wits with a two year old kid who doesn't give a hoot about "going poopy in the toilet." You'd be better off just smacking your head against a brick wall, man. It hurts less.

And then there is Allie. She turned five in March. She is my princess, my darling, my silent angel. Allie has a neurological disorder called Retts Syndrome. It is one of the harshest "diseases" a human could be strapped with I think. It mostly effects girls (the boys with it don't tend to survive birth) and typical early symptoms include loss of language and manual dexterity. They have seizures, they have eating problems (similar to acid reflux), they have splitting headaches. What they don't have is a physical appearance that marks them as being "mentally retarded." Quite the contrary: they are very beautiful girls. Allie has a million dollar smile that lights up her face.

I can't write much more on this critter right now. I'll have to try and take up the thread another time.

In the meantime, those of you with children who read this: thank GOD if they're normal, and thank GOD even if they aren't. Children are special gifts. They show us our immortality, even in the midst of their mortality.

Spag Man