Noah started his speech therapy this morning. I wish I had something to really say about it -- something inspiring or hopeful or at least a "this is the first day of the last of my eardrums" sort of thing.
But despite all my many preparations (I vacuumed the couch cushions! I wore mascara!), our first speech therapy session was fairly anticlimactic, and was more along the lines of "a nice lady showed up with a bag of toys just like the toys Noah already has and taught me how to actually play with Noah's toys, because I fail at Toddler Toy Sound Effects 101."
And while there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, I am a little too wigged out to go into more detail. Because as soon as our speech therapist left, I managed to drop my iPhone in the toilet. Because I also fail at LIFE.
Daaaaaad! She's trying to look all involved and capable for the camera again, make her quit it.