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Straight From the Bottle

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  • On the First Day of Speech Therapy, Archer's Speech Therapist Gave to Me...

     

    It's pretty amazing how long it took to finally get a speech therapist over here. Early Intervention may have been quick to throw assessors our way, but it's taken almost four months to get started with speech therapy. Four months, a thousand phone calls and one accidental appointment for physical therapy.

     

    "But we're here for speech therapy."

     

    "No, you're not."

     

    "Um... yes we are?"

     

    Anyway, moving on...

     

    Curious in Alligator Boots

     

    Today was the day-- the moment of truth. I cleaned the house, watched the clock and finally waited like a dog in the window, with Archer who's newly obsessed with waving at people, both real and invisible. We waited for her to appear, smiling, genuine, cool, exactly what our previous "assessment coordinators" were not. In short, she was lovely. A delight. I was happy to welcome her into our home.

     

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  • Still No Word

    Archer's supposed to be talking by now, but he isn't.

     

    "Does he have any words yet?" Our pediatrician asked last week, at Archer's two-year appointment.

     

    "No."

     

    "Not any? Six months ago you said he had a few words."

     

    "I know..."

     

    I lied to her at the last appointment. I didn't want to take Archer to therapy. I didn't want to get him tested. I was afraid of what that meant for us. I figured he would get there on his own. Just like he did with crawling at thirteen-months and walking at seventeen.

     

    I told myself to wait until he turned 2. "He'll surely be talking by then," I thought.

     

    For the past six months I've tried everything I can think of to get Archer talking. But still no words. No "Mama". No "Dada". No nothing.

    "He doesn't have words. Not a single one," I admitted.

    "I see," she said, scribbling away on her clip-board. Big illegible scribbles that I tried to read upside down but could not.

    I tightened my arms around Archer. I repeated over to myself and to him not to worry.

     

     

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About the Blogger

rebecca woolf

Rebecca Woolf in LA

Who says becoming a mom means succumbing to laser tattoo removal and moving to the suburbs? This young writer and mother of one gives it to you Straight From the Bottle.

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