Almost exactly a year ago, I received a phone call that my mother was on life support—brain dead from attempting to kill herself by ingesting pain killers and a bucket of gin. As soon as I hung up that phone call, I knew this was going to be an event that would most likely test every survival skill I had acquired until that moment. That it did, however, what I did not expect, was to gain a different, almost poetic, interpretation of death, from non other, than Sandler.

A few days ago, Sandler came up to me and asked, "Mommy, is 'retard’ a bad word?"

After picking my heart up off the floor, and regaining feeling in my tongue to answer his question, I was shocked to calmly respond, "Buddy, it's not a kind word at all, and it's not one you should ever use. Many people use words before thinking about how harmful they can be…”

One of Sandler’s beautiful qualities is his open expression of appreciation for the good in his life.  For example—last night, after returning home from a full day of skateboarding around LA [with Skate Above], during a break from his pizza, he said, "Mommy... thank you so much for making my life come 'twue'... I just love my life so much and am the happiest boy in the whole wide America!"