Oh Sure. Any Minute Now.

It seems, everyone I happen to run into are all very sweet to ask me how the Doodle is doing.

"He's doing great", I excitedly reply. Then almost on cue, I get the following question...

"Is he talking yet?"

"Uhm, no", I have to say.

Then I get the look. It's a look somewhere between a bolt of shock and deep pity but never hard at all to read.

Am I sensitive to this? Yes. Why? Because the Doodle is going to be turning 4 and is not talking or anywhere really close and this is really worrisome because I have to face reality that he may never, ever speak.

It's hard because he knows so much but cannot verbalize any of it and it breaks my heart. Not just for me...because this isn't about me. But for him and what that would mean for his Life. It's going to be hard enough with his challenges of epilepsy and autism...not being able to speak is going to be one more Giant burden for this little man.

I need to embrace the fact that I have a very handicapped little boy. Hiding my head in the sand isn't going to do anyone any favors.

Then, after the uncomfortable silence and if they aren't brain dead they can sense my disappointment and frustration. That's when they assure me that any day now we are going to see a HUGE explosion of language and communication. And then they proceed to tell me that a friend of a friend's brother's nephew's cousin once removed didn't talk until he was 6 which is supposed to make me feel better or give me some kind of hope.

They keep talking, in a nervous almost uncontrollable chatter...They'll quip, "Oh, he will. He'll talk. Any day now. He's just a late talker."

Hmph. Really? Because I would love it if he was just a "late talker" and that's all this was.

So, that's when I smile politely and change the subject to the unbelievable price of gasoline.

A Little Man of Few Words

Maybe Dominic is not talking because he doesn't have anything important to say right now. Maybe he will be a man of few words. It's just sad that our cat in heat is putting out more sounds and language than Dominic as she chatters about the house wanting outside to get laid.
The Doodle understands so much and I watch him soak things in. I keep waiting for that huge language explosion from him. Any day now.

Today was a hard day for the Doodle. 8 head-drop seizures before 8:00 a.m., I could tell he wasn't feeling right. His balance is off and his eyes are more glazed than usual. He sees his little push cart, his eyes light up and he wants to get down and play so badly. Pointing to his head and grabbing my face so that he knows I am seeing and listening to his request, he doesn't understand my reluctance. So, against my better judgement, I let him down and then minutes later, BOOM! I hear the nauseating sound of his helmet slamming to the ground and then his wailing cry. Every time I hear that crash, my heart stops for a second and I wonder what injury he's going to have. I hold him in my arms and love him, telling him it's going to be OK. I kiss him and squeeze him until he stops crying and then he wants down to do it all over again.

Our Besty Angel came to work with him today but he could barely function and was unusually more upset, so she took him for a nice walk in his stroller. He likes to go outside no matter how crappy or out of it he feels. I am hoping the beautiful and smart doctors at Stanford will shed some much needed light tomorrow. I'll keep you posted.

I did my best on the bread tonight, but in my defense, I'm a little side-tracked. Jim came home from working in Elk for a home cooked meal and had to put the garlic bread out with a fire extinguisher. I've never seen garlic bread burn like that before. Jimmy was screaming, "Put it Out! Put it Out!" It was like a campfire in my oven. Will I ever get this smell out of our house?