July 12, 2007
The podcast for the radio show isn't available yet. I don't know why they're dragging their feet and denying the Internet the chance to hear the MOST THRILLING 11 MINUTES OF RADIO EVER (har!) but rest assured I will link to it as soon as I can. God forbid you miss the part where I completely lost track of my point and the words coming out of my mouth and said something about how I'll look back and miss the toddler tantrums someday. What? WHAT?
And this is why I should not talk to people before 9 am. Or really, ever.
Anyway, I'm bummed that I don't have it, simply because I was hoping to take up a whole entry with it and thus not have to fill space this morning with the topic I'm going to fill the space with, because this topic makes me sound so high-strung and neurotic but I can't help it. I am high-strung and neurotic. I mean, I'm a blogger. Gawd.
Noah has a doctor's appointment today. He's getting checked for a speech delay.
I know! Aball! Abeer! And all the other videos I've posted of him chattering away. The problem is that's pretty much all we've got in the speech department. He says about six or seven words clearly (two of which he's said in the past couple days after I already made the appointment, of course), and then another five or six words that aren't really words, but we at least know what he means.
(He also seems to lose words as quickly as he acquires them, with "light" and "fan" and "plane" all getting reduced to "na" and "doggie" turning back into "da." I'm guessing this is a pretty normal thing for toddlers [right? normal?], but it does make it harder to get a real grasp on the sum of his vocabulary.)
He babbled early and noticed books early and was pegged by our pediatrician as "highly verbal." But then he was "slow" to point and clap and wave (can I stop with all the quotes? will you remember that I get how ridiculous it is to be using these words? do you understand that it's not like we have a milestone chart stuck on the fridge with a MENSA magnet?) and all the younger kids in Gymboree started talking and Noah continued to speak only in his own little Swahili alien language.
Personally, I think he is fine. I think he is stubborn. I think he is STUB. BORN. He's never been much of a mimic or interested in performing on cue. If you ask him what the cow says you will get a withering look that clearly says, "You know what the damn cow says, woman. Stop bugging me."
But at the same time, he doesn't appear to know what the cow says. He won't say milk or juice or string two words together. He doesn't seem to have enough words to string them together. How much do you chalk up to temperament? And for how long?
I'm from a family of late-talking boys (my dad apparently spoke in a language only his big sister could understand until he was three, and then went on to become an English teacher), so I've been going back and forth and forth and back on this for months. Yes, Noah is clearly behind other kids his age. But he's not even two yet, for fuck's sake. He's taking his time. He'll bust out in sentences one of these days, just you wait! It's not like I'm trying to turn him into the star of his Toddler Mandarin Chinese class or get him into a college-prep preschool. (I've already picked out his preschool. IT'S THE ONE CLOSEST TO MY HOUSE.)
My kid is smart. My kid is a freaking delight. He can identify a good half of the alphabet and loves looking at books and numbers and if I tell him he needs to put his shoes on to go outside, he will go get his shoes. His fine motor skills and attention span are insane for his age. He's all-around totally fine and okay.
They just make it really hard to trust your own instincts these days, you know?
At his 18-month check-up, the doctor (who wasn't even our regular doctor, because I'm an asshole who forgot to make the appointment on time) quizzed me about his vocabulary and admitted that he was lagging a little. She wobbled her head back and forth as she debated whether or not to make A Thing about it. She told me to bring him back in three months if he didn't make any progress.
It's been three months. He's said three more words. He's stopped saying two of the words he was saying three months ago. So we're going back in.
I really hope he's okay.