Our local 1st Steps therapists stopped by last week for a little sit down with Olivia. Liv decided to take a developmental therapist for 200 and speech therapist for 400 since we aren't getting lot's of chattiness here, unless you count Ava's incessant loud spelling of every word she sees. " L-O-W-E-S Does that spell Old Navy Mommy?", she asks. I answered their questions (the therapists) as honestly as possible while desperately trying not to focus on the inch of dust under the armoir. I tried not to look supremely lame as they asked numerous questions that I had no idea how to answer. "Does she initiate play with you or other family members?" "Will she drop one toy to pick up another?" "Will she shift a toy from one hand to another?" "Does she show signs of frustration when someone takes a toy from her hand?"
Here's the deal..."All I know is that yes, she gets mighty pissed when she gets bonked on the head with a toy causing her to scrape her chin on the coffee table. Does that count for anything?"
Oh hell, I watch this kid for a living and I honestly didn't know the answer to some of these questions. I felt a little like the innocent guy who gets blamed for the murder early on in the Law and Order episode. "Don't look at me, I'm just her mother. I only watch this kid about 16 hours a day. What do I know? Is anyone going to make dinner, I'm starved. I have no clean underwear. Who is bringing snacks to pre-school this week? Can someone PLEASE bathe that old dog?" I am tragically distracted and paying no attention to anything unless it screams at me or it stinks so bad I have to bust a move.
In the end, she qualifies for no therapy, only a note in the file. A note to call us at 15 months for a speech re-evaluation. It turns out she is slightly speech delayed. But, she got so many points for walking that she isn't delayed enough to qualify for state intervention. (Good thing, interventions should be saved for 16 year olds.) She likes to say Ba and and occasional gullah, gullah. Never a Ma. Oh no, despite my annoying and persistent attempts for a MaMa....nothing.
She celebrated the finality of her 1st Steps visit by walking over to the Muffin Man and pulling a pant leg to be picked up. She popped his hooded sweatshirt string into her mouth and said Da, Da.
This is my reward for changing 3 poopy diapers a day. Da, Da. God love Ava for rushing to my emotional defense and shouting Ma Ma into Liv's face. Man, I love that kid sometimes. But alas, nothing. Only another Da Da.
And Rodney thought HE got no respect.