Chapter 1, Part 1

Kicked Out Of 1st Grade, Being In Behavior Hospitals By 5 & More

I don’t even really know where to begin explaining all of the absolutely crazy and nearly disturbing things I did before I was 6 years old.

There were things that led to my mom having me see therapists at 4 years old and also led up to my adoption.

I guess a list of those things makes more sense than scattered stories so here we go:


One time, we were driving, going 65 MPH on Interstate 57. My 1-year-old brother was in his car seat next to me.

I took off my seat belt, opened the door, and stuck my head and half of my body out of the car, then attempted to jump out of the car while it was moving. The two cars behind us were honking in fear. My mom almost had a heart attack as she was pulling off to the side of the road.

The two cars behind us pulled off the road when we did and got out to make sure everything was okay.


My mom was diabetic, so she had insulin bottles she kept cold in the refrigerator. One time I took the bottles and smashed her entire supply all on the kitchen floor.


Because of that, they started keeping the diabetic stuff in the highest pantry. I climbed up there, grabbed all of her needles and insulin bottles, packed them all into my school lunch box, and brought the needles and insulin to school with me. During lunch, I took them all out along with my normal lunch.

Even this one makes me say “WTF!” I didn’t even know I did this until my mom told me about it yesterday.


I got my knee stuck UNDER the grocery cart in the part where you put big bags, and they had to call the fire department to cut the cart apart to get me out. Imagine how embarrassing that was for my mom.


I climbed into my newborn brother’s crib with a steak knife.

I already knew about this one.

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I mean, look at how evil I looked as a kid, LOL. I laugh every time I see this picture.

Even in this half way nice picture, I still kind of look evil, LOL.

The First Behavior Hospital I Was Put In

After that ‘bringing a knife in the crib’ incident, it went from me just seeing therapists weekly to a therapist recommending I did “in-house counseling – 24-hour surveillance” at a behavior hospital for troubled children.

I lived there, obviously. It was in downtown Chicago. I was there for almost 2 months. I lived on a floor at least 15+ stories up with a bunch of other behavioral kids. We used to play Gremlins 2 on regular Nintendo on a TV cart they would wheel out.

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I can picture the area where we played the game in the middle of the room – the locked hospital doors to my left 30 feet away and locked windows to my right 10 feet away. There was a reception desk to my left. We all sat in chairs and took turns playing until a kid lost the game and handed off the controller.

While I was in there, I would talk to numerous different psychologists throughout the week. They said I used to say, “I wanna go live with my father,” every single day. But my dad wasn’t capable of taking care of me.

Three of the professional psychologist at the hospital diagnosed my behavior issues and said, “The son does not like the mother.”

My mom said to me yesterday on the phone as she explained this stuff to me, “I thought you hated me, Rob.”

I was let out of the hospital, This was all right before the adoption.

They had insurance for me, but something happened along the way and it was denied. My mom said they received a hospital bill for me being there and it was almost $300,000. The insurance covered it after whatever went wrong was resolved.

Then I came home, and soon after, I went to 1st grade. I got kicked off the bus within 2 weeks and my mom had to bring me to school every day. I was getting in trouble for attacking other kids and doing stuff like bringing needles and insulin to school. In 1st grade, I was kicked out of school.

By the time I was 5, my dad was living in old people’s homes because no one else in my family could take care of him.

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