Whenever I start thinking too highly of myself, I remember when I got beat up by a Downs Syndrome boy.

To be completely fair to him and me, I was only five. He was twelve. My mom used to take care of some awesome Down Syndrome boys. I loved them. They were fun, funny, loving, and unbelievably strong.

Pretty similar to the way I think even now as a 41 year old, I kind of had the impression at the age of five that I was smarter than my twelve year old pal. I guess I figured that if I was smarter than him, I must be stronger than him. I miscalculated.

I remember innocently picking on him. I mean that. I have a Down Syndrome adopted sister and I pick on her all the time out of love. I miss her more than anyone in my family when I am away. I just love to hear her laugh, so I pick on her and get her giggling. Anyway, I was picking on him. He did not give me any warning. He just grabbed my head and slammed it into the ground.

He was fortunate that I didn’t make one of my judo moves and smash his hand with my head. I could have really hurt him. But I took it easy on him and left his hand on the top of my head as it collided with the ground.

Just kidding. He let loose and taught me a valuable lesson.

Everyone is better than me at something. I can learn from anyone. I should respect everyone. And my opinion of my own intelligence is mostly a severe weakness. It makes me susceptible to attacks. Pride comes before a fall.