Speech Pathology? Survey Says, "Leave that baby alone!"

Get this. At last week's well-visit, my perfect little genius was referred to a speech pathologist.

How can this be? We've done everything to encourage his language skills - read, sing, and model behavior. Still, he's not having anything to do with saying any real words, except maybe, "No." Maybe.

Then we all went on language development overdrive. My mom delivered to us some speech therapy resources, we've been over-articulating, to an annoying level, everything Dally shows interest in, and we even plopped him in front of the TV hoping Elmo would teach him how to talk. (IMO, Sesame Street sucks these days - super boring.)

My sister-in-law said I should put Dally in daycare because if he sees other little dudes talking, that'll motivate him. OK, no offense at all to people who rely on daycare, but we're not at Threat Level Red just yet. That'll be my last resort. I have, however, looked into playgroups and Dally went to his first one today. He didn't really feel like socializing with the other kids, but he did flirt with some of the moms. Go figure.

Anyway, per doctor's orders, I called to make an appointment with the speech pathologist. Guess what she said.

"He's too little - leave that baby ALONE!"

They don't see kids under two. It's awesome how Kaiser is in perfect synergy. So I have learned a few things this week (from watching Intervention, reading speech patholgy resource guides, and playgroup):

1. His communication style is: "Has his own agenda". Only communicates when he needs something; plays independently.
2. If I push my child too hard and not appreciate him for his strengths and weaknesses, he may end up on heroin.
3. Who cares if he NEVER talks? At least he has his stunning good looks. (Quote from playgroup mom, "You are just the most handsome guy I've seen in a long, long time." And I'm pretty sure she wasn't talking to me - though this was at a LGBT community center.)

P.S.This is the raddest article I've read all week: http://www.phillymag.com/articles/jon_and_kate_gosselin/page1

Thank God It's Monday

It wasn't THAT long ago when I loved Paintball Sundays. John would go play paintball and I'd stay home and watch Lifetime movies all day. Maybe eat a can of corn and some Sweet Tarts.
Yesterday was a Paintball Sunday. John got to shoot people and I got me some QT with the little guy and Noggin.

Nap time, as far as I'm concerned, is critical for one's sanity. That's when I get to watch uninterrupted shit television (Lifetime movies) or TLC.

Dally decided not to really take advantage of the time slots alloted for napping. He probably slept for a total of 50 minutes, when he usually takes a 2 to 2.5 hour nap in the AM and 1.5 hour nap in the PM. He was doing all right until about 6pm when he decided to throw this crazy tantrum. He was totally fine, playing with some toy, and then all of a sudden, "AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH." (Yes, just like that.)

He kept running back and forth, from one end of the room to the other. John and I watched this, mesmerized. If I hadn't been so tired that my brain was functioning at the capacity of an orange, I would have videotaped it and posted it on YouTube. I think people would have enjoyed it equally as much as the dental work boy.

Having spent my Sunday hanging out with Dally while John went to paintball, I abdicated from bedtime duties. John put him down just before 7 and the little dude was knocked out before John walked out of the room.

I went straight to bed too where I watched Rock of Love, Sex Slaves in America, and Law & Order: Criminal Intent.

Ahhhh, the afterhours of a toddler's parent.