Speech Therapy, Session One
Greetings to everyone.
It's been a hectic year already, and it's only just begun. Rebecca is in class all this week (in Cheyenne), and all our babysitters are unavailable. I may be able to drop Xavier off in his preschool class Thursday this week (plus his normal Friday class). I won't know until Thursday. Oh, and somewhere, somehow, both Rebecca and I picked up a mild case of what we think is food poisoning.
To top this off, Xavier started puking up his bottle again. We saw some of this last weekend: always after a deep cough, then an emptying of his stomach. We also noted signs that he has teeth moving again, which always churns his stomach and may be contributing to his more intense coughing.
Xavier had his first speech therapy session today. It was with Miss Robin, the same therapist who has helped him with his eating and swallowing. Running late, I handed Xavier a bottle in the car and headed off to Children's. Arriving a mere two minutes behind (I really made good time, in spite of the rush hour traffic), I came around to get Xavier out of his car seat.
When I grabbed his little hand to move it out of the way of the buckle, it felt more cold than I expected. I wondered if he had dumped his bottle rather than drink it (I was paying attention as we drove, so I didn't think he dumped the bottle), so I examined him further. I found some spit up on his jacket and thought, "OK, it was a little bouncy on the ride over." Then, I undid the belts and pulled him from the car seat.
He did not dump the bottle; he puked the bottle. I swear, toddlers' stomachs have the power to multiply what goes in, so twice as much comes back out. Xavier was soaked; his coat was covered (it's dark color, interestingly, hid just how much he was covered). The bucket was soaked. After we got home, I would discover the bucket's base and the car's leather seat was soaked.
Carrying Xavier, covered in milk mixed with digestive juices, I checked us in. This did not go quickly either, and I was not wanting to waste time getting him changed. No, something new at Children's and doctors' offices: screening for MIRS and Ebola. Seriously, I'm not joking. Xavier passed and got a little sticker to wear while in the clinic telling everyone he'd been screened.
I met Miss Robin, changing Xavier's pants as we walked back to her office. We caught up on his eating (which until these last few days, has been admirable), then began some exercises. As you may imagine, the exercises are more play and games for Xavier. Xavier, who chatters and "talks" and coos and squawks all day long, played it mum, saying very little. This session, of course, was meant to baseline his verbal skills, so he wasn't giving an accurate account. Perhaps he was purposefully sandbagging to look better later on?
One of the games we got to, however, made the trip and the regurgitated milk worth it, at least for me and my ego. Miss Robin broke out an iPad and brought up an app. A cartoon cat came up, leaned forward and placed its paw against its ear as if to say "I'm listening. Say something." Xavier was not impressed; he only wanted at the iPad so he could press the Home button.
Miss Robin spoke a little baby gibberish, then the cat in the iPad repeated the gibberish. This she did twice, and twice the cat replayed her voice and sounds as if the cat were speaking. This grabbed Xavier's attention. He squawked. Then, the cat squawked. He cooed a bit and made several uniquely Xavier sounds. Then, the cat cooed a bit and made several uniquely Xavier sounds. Now into it, Xavier continued playing this game several minutes.
This impressed Miss Robin, who helps set up speech programs for Children's. With something of an impressed look mixed with a little stun, she told me she has never seen a child so young figure out this app. Before Xavier, the youngest she has ever seen interact correctly with the app was two and a half years; the average age to figure it out (in her experience) is about three years old.
I drove Xavier home, the cabin of the car perfumed with sun-warmed puke. I did not care. I was grinning from ear to ear, while even a little sobered. My son figured out a toy 11 months in advance of his age.