Forrest and the perfect date.

Whenever I take Forrest out, all the women want to dance with him. He gets asked all the time. Forrest has always had this uncanny mimicry for complex moves.He usually wears his tuxedo, like a costume or a uniform and this "impresses the ladies" he says.Just a little shy at first, he starts out somewhat stiff, in the lead position, then he surprises them with his big theatrical bust-a-move grooves. Of course, he can overdo it with the hand on the testicles thing (ala the King of Pop). He embarrasses me with his pelvis thrusting thing. It's kind of gross for a mother to see but gets a laugh from everyone else. He gets in a trance and the women love it. He's a serious dancer. He can lead turns and the basic rock step, to his own beat of course. I watch dumbfounded as good looking women line up to ask him for the next dance. It warms my heart. He's really a great escort, opens doors, lets the women do all the talking, is agreeable to anything, and loves to eat. The last dance we took him to had a finger food table and he came back with 10 chicken wings and the entire plate of cheese. About a 3000 calories, But hey, "I am a growing man!" he explains. Forrest is into pop culture stereotype one liners, but this is his strong suit. He makes us laugh and people can relax around him. I am thinking there are many Portland singles out there who could really benefit from taking Forrest out for a date, he is a "chick magnet" and this could really be a plus for some. And he is safe, he won't do any of those come on moves, he'll want to come home early to his own bed. And you'll laugh all night. What more could you want?

Army guys

I was taking Forrest to work with me one morning in downtown Portland when we saw a young man wearing his army combat uniform. You know the kind, it's the camouflaged desert storm look. The soldier was talking with his friends as he got off the Max. I imagined he was on leave from Iraq, glad to be home again and hanging with his buddies. Forrest took one look at him and proclaimed , "See mom, he's not dead yet!". Forrest has an issue with vocal control. He is louder in public than he should be. Mortified, I pretended that I didn't hear him as we got in line in at Starbucks.

I know exactly what Forrest was really telling me. He was saying, "See mom, you were wrong - guys in the Army all don't get killed so you should give me back my army guy action figures that I like to play with". I was busted. He had accused me of throwing away his "army guys" when we moved. Oops. I was cleaning up and "accidentally" tossed those little green plastic guys in the trash. I am a liar. I lie to my cognitively impaired child. I justify it.

At 18, Forrest's selective services registration form came in the mail.It's the "draft" requirement for young men in this country. Boy did I have fun with that. You get to fill out the part explaining why you aren't eligible. There wasn't a check box that described why Forrest wasn't going to fight in any war. I got to fill in the blank spots. I am sure I am on some CIA list because of it. Forrest doesn't care about my antiwar liberal peace marching spirituality or politics. He likes playing with those Dollar Store plastic figurines. I am disturbed by this because I think he is glorifying war. I hate admitting that those billboards and television ads really work because my sweet son with an IQ score of 51 thinks it would be fun and glorious to carry a gun and shoot things. Forrest envies the guys in uniform. He wants to be powerful and wear one of those too. I won't even let him buy camo patterned clothes. It's one of the main consolation prizes that I am sure many mothers over the centuries of disabled sons have been grateful for. Now it's daughters too. But like many boys his age,(developmental age?) Forrest has a thing for war movies and army action figures. Thankfully he doesn't know enough to beg me for the World of Warcraft PS2 game.

I had to DO something so I tried to explain the realities of war and combat. We looked up the numbers of killed soldiers so far in Iraq. As of a few weeks ago it was 4,379 US Soldiers killed, 31,669 seriously wounded. I cried in front of him. I wasn't faking it. Forrest really gets nervous when I cry and he has never bugged me about playing with "army guys" after that. But when he saw that soldier near Pioneer Courthouse Square, everything clicked into place. He knew I was wrong and he wants to play with his army guys again. "See mom, that guys not dead yet!"

parent-of-retarded-kids discounts.

I asked the guy at the counter of the new frozen yogurt store if there was a special rate for people with developmental disabilities. I was being serious. Parents of kids with cognitive challenges think this thought often I'm sure, they just don't say it. All the hidden costs of raising Forrest is astronomical. If you add up all the broken and lost items, the repairs, the upstairs floor replacement after repeatedly flushing his grandfather's clogged toilet. Oh that was bad. We were sitting in the dining room having breakfast when all of a sudden water was dripping from the chandelier. My father and his wife turned down my offer to pay the contractors. 4K I think. Thanks dad.

I was treating the whole family to the new serve-yourself yogurt place on Hawthorne. Swirl. It was a very warm sunny weekend and I wanted to do something special for the kids. You pay by the ounce and Forrest couldn't control himself. All those flavors and topping choices. Okay maybe it was my fault. This is exactly why I NEVER take him to buffets. His concoction was over $8. We all managed to keep our bowls in the 3 - 4 dollar range as Forrest eyes grew bigger and bigger. I tried to do portion control in public, and I sounded like a very bad mother. Embarrassed and frustrated,I did what every parent wants to do. I asked for the parent-of-a-retarded-kid discount. The guy showed me some empathy as he rung up the total. $26.24. He kindly offered me a frequent customer punch card. He punched all 10 of the slots. It's hiding in my wallet for the next time I go there. By myself.