Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Who, Me?

My amazing parents have done foster care for nearly thirty years. They have taken in scores of children, almost exclusively developmentally delayed. We had Joey for eight years. Joey was about the same age as my younger brother. He had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome which, being interpreted, is horrific behavior. He had real problems and did a lot of damage to our home and our bodies (biting was his favorite form of affection). Because of his severe disability, he made marvelous infractions. He enjoyed coming into our bedrooms at 5 o'clock in the morning and yelling, WAKE UP!!!! at the top of his lungs. Repeatedly. He once took a bite of ice cream--through the cardboard of the half-gallon container. In a fit he kicked a hole in the wall of his bedroom. That was bad, but others with not as good of an excuse have done the same. The bad part is that he relieved himself in that hole several times. Now, how does one go about cleaning that up?

Joey, however, did not do all of the breaking, sneaking and irritating things in our house.


He went to another home when I was about fourteen. After he left, I am somewhat ashamed to say, our dear mother discovered that her children were not as angelic as she had been lead (by us) to believe. You see, our scapegoat was gone. Sudden responsibility for can be startling.


Then again, my mom is one smart cookie. And there is that thing about eyes in the back of her head.

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