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They say
You are retarded.
You hold out your arms
Anticipating your approaching Mother,
And clap a fierce bear hug around her neck,
As any child would.
You smile, and the entire world sparkles in your little eyes.
You laugh when tickled, chase your toys under the bed,
Pout when thwarted,
As all children do.
You wail miserably when Mama leaves.
You adamantly resist treatment,
Wary of all these pajama-clad strangers,
As any child would be.
I will always remember being foolish enough to give you
Your own wash-cloth during your bath.
We both came out of the tub-room dripping and laughing.
They say you are retarded.
But how…?
Seems like a mighty big label for such a little boy.
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