"Your little brother is retarded."
"Huh? Which one?"
"The really short one."
"No, no. The other one. The one that doesn't grow. My mom said he's retarded."
"Oh, Oli. He has special needs."
"You keep saying that. Is it supposed to mean something to me?"
"Duh. Your. brother. is. retarded."
"Maybe. But at least he's not rude."
"Well I'm not coming down here to play with any retarded kids."
"That's alright. I think we'd rather play with Oli anyhow. You should probably go and find some really smart kids to play with. Kids who value intelligence over, say, manners, huh?"
Jo, you make this momma proud. And to think ... I worried what having a special needs child might mean to my other, neurotypical kids. Turns out that what it means is compassion, day in, day out. Compassion and love.