Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Out of the overflow of the long time repressed emotions the mouth speaks

Our Magsie has a speech delay. She's almost three years old but, until a month ago, she was very rarely using three word sentences and had a vocabulary of 80 words (normal for her age would be closer to 500.) When she did talk, often I was the only one who could understand her, and then only about 75% of the time - on a good day.

Family legend says that I did not talk until the age of three, and ask anyone, I have made up for it. In spades. So I haven't been especially worried about her, especially since she has met all her other developmental milestones on target.

It's just that, as anyone whose child has a speech delay can attest, it is a very frustrating situation for both of us.

She's been receiving speech therapy in our home through ECI for about a year now. It has helped, but progress has still been slow.

Till the hurricane hit. Don't know why, but something changed with the hurricane.

And now, you could say, Mags is talking up a storm.

And I am thankful. It hinders your relationship with a child who cannot communicate well. And we always knew that once she began to speak English the things that she would say would be hysterical, and we have not been disappointed. It is really fun to see sides of her personality that have been hidden from us for so long.

I got teared up when she chimed in with "Fadder, Son and Owey Spirid" at bedtime prayers and "Pwaise de Yord" along with the Seeds CD. These are the moments I have been waiting for, the praise that the Lord has ordained from my infant.

What I hadn't counted on was the Unleashing from Satan.

For it Mags seems to have a little bit of pent up hostility, toward everybody in her house. Evidently, Miss Maggie has a few scores to settle.

And boy, is she lettin' it rip. Even her "innocent" baby brother is not being spared her verbal wrath.

One of our first ever conversations went like this:

"Wook. Maggie booboo hand."
What happened to your hand, Maggie?
"Ike did it. Ike push Maggie. Bad Ike." Then, she shook her finger at Ike and told him, "BAD IKE! NO MA'AM, IKE! NO PUSH MAGGIE! NO!! MA'AM!!"

Ah, a tattletale is born!

Shepherd and Eva Rose have enjoyed immunity for a good while now, since unless Mommy or Daddy saw one of them hit/scratch/snatch a toy from Maggie, they slipped through the cracks in the system. Now, however, things have changed and are they ever stunned. What? It speaks? It narcs?

But tattling isn't the only problem that the wonderful world of communication has brought. Because Maggie has a new favorite word now:


Isn't that precious? Such a melodious word to hear forty times a day from a cherubic, suddenly chatty toddler.

Yesterday in the car she yanked her bow out. I put it back and told her to leave it in. She scrunched up her face, crossed her arms, looked away from me, and said, "Tupid bow. Tupid tupid bow."

She sings songs with the touching lyrics, "TUPID SHEP. TUPID SISSY. TUPID IKE." And, yes, when I do not heed her commands, out comes "TUPID MOMMY!"

Her skilled new mouth is about to get a little bath, if you know what I mean.

Welcome to the world of learning to tame your tongue, Maggie Belle.
Your Momma is learning along right beside you.

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