The Little Retarded Boy Goes For a Train Ride.

Today I saw a little boy with Down's syndrome at the mall with his mom all by themselves. He wanted to ride the train that goes around the mall but she didn't have the money for a ticket and the disappointment in his eyes was heart breaking. Till this tattooed man with his wife and child stepped up and gave away one of their tickets for the train so this little boy could go for a ride. Seeing the joy in this little boys face as the train took off made me shed a tear. I'm sure my son was pretty ok with dad not riding on the train with him today. I'd do it again in a heart beat.

In the beginning we are all naked in the jungle.

In the beginning there were two adults that assumed they were ready to make and raise a child. Mr. Beastwood, and this is the story, completely unfiltered and fully over sensationalized for both my writing and your reading pleasure. It's sure to make some people laugh, I'm sure we will do our best to offend everyone eventually. 

Mr. Beastwood naked in the garden of Grammy with his faithful side kick Chewie, the crossbreed mongrel that's equal parts Beagle and Jack Russell. 

I'm getting a bit of a late start on this so I'll start off with a brief summary of the last two and a half years. 

November 22, 2011 there was this unborn human child wedged sideways in his mother's womb. Sometime that afternoon that changed when a Naval officer sliced open the mother with a blade and yanked the child from her. 

The child quickly learned to breath, drink, pee poop and cry. As the child grew so did the quantities of drink and eventually food he required, unfortunately this was directly proportionate with the amount of pee and poop he produced along with the volume at which the child cried. 

Soon the child became mobile, first by pulling himself across the floor, then crawling, walking and eventually running out the automatic double doors at the department store into the parking lot faster than his parents could chase him down. 

Verbal skills progressed in a somewhat similar manor. At first there were varying ways at which the child would cry depending on if he was hungry, sleepy, needed to be burped or dropped an atomic load of crap in his diaper and was tired of sitting in his own filth.

Eventually the small man child began to pick up bits and pieces of conversations his parental units were using and putting them into the context of his daily surroundings. I very distinctly remember coming into his jungle room to change the child's diaper and he was standing in his crib bouncing like most human hell spawn do at this age. Clint lost his balance stepped on one of the 17 blue dogs we'd gotten him (this is a story for another entry) and fell flat on his ass. I very distinctly heard "Oh shit!"  Yes my son's first words were oh shit. I'm so proud, yes he's the son of a sailor and soldier.