There are not many times when Ryan and I are both left speechless, but it happened one evening when we were out to dinner with the boys. It was our last night at the beach and a thunderstorm was threatening to hit. We chose the covered porch area because the wait for an inside table was over 30 minutes long. I realized too late that the outdoor dining also served as the smokers' hangout. With the Olympics playing on the TV, the big storm hovering above and three rambunctious boys, conversation with the revolving door of smokers came easy. Our food took awhile to arrive and Ben became fiercely hungry. Ben's mood was not at its best - he was tired and hungry, never a good combination for anyone. One of the quieter smokers brought us out popcorn. He mentioned that things were a bit slow in the kitchen. We thanked him, and assumed he was an owner. After we ate a delicious dinner, the waitress came over to tell us that our bill had been paid. My husband tried to guess who our th
These stories describe our journey with Ben, our oldest son. Ben is a sweet and energetic redhead, born with Rett Syndrome, a rare genetic mutation. My husband, Ryan, and I try to keep up with Ben and his two younger brothers. I intend to shed insight into raising a child with disabilities and pass on the wisdom we’ve earned over the past two decades.