Speech Antics

You know it's gonna get interesting when your son's speech language pathologist (SLP) walks him out of the therapy gym after his hour long session with a funny look on her face and says, "Ok, funny story..."

To be honest, it sort of strikes fear in your heart if you're a mom of a spencer.  You know what he's capable of, and you love him to death, but you hope no one else ever has to love him like you do--at least until he gets married.  Friends who work with children professionally assure me that the people who take care of him at various points throughout the week have seen a lot worse than what he has to offer, but they don't know him like I know him.  So, an opening line like that sends my mind racing.  What in the world did he do?  What action of his is remarkable to someone who spends all day every day treating kids?  The mind reels with possibilities.

Thankfully, none of my worst case scenario knee-jerk imaginations turned out to be the "funny story" she had to tell me.  And, even more thankfully, it truly was a funny story.  Not a not-so-funny story that a professional calls funny in order to lessen the blow or try to allay the sure feelings of self-loathing and doubt their news will stir up.  Thank God (really), it was a funny story.

When children play in the therapy gym they do it sans shoes or socks.  So, immediately upon entrance, foot ware comes off.  Apparently, a favorite past time of my little angel's has been to lull his SLP into a state of relaxation while he "plays" in the foam pit.  Then, he would race across the gym to grab his socks out of his shoes.  Then, he waves them around in front of her, to make sure she sees them.  Finally, he jumps into the foam pit and buries them as far down as his little then-2-year-old arms can reach.  And, this has not been a rare occurrence.  Yes, at this point I'm thinking, "Great.  He's that kid."  And to be honest, he probably sort of is.  However, at this point in the story, the SLP is laughing and smiling about this behavior, so she must either be cool with it, or have been bewitched by his impish beauty.  Probably a bit of both.

So, she goes on to tell me, that he pulled this little stunt today, but that they couldn't find one of his socks this time.  She said they both looked for his socks, and he actually found one of them, but she couldn't find the other one.  She finally told him that they'd have to tell his mom they couldn't find his other sock. If you know me, then you know that at this point, I am wondering how much of his therapy time he has wasted by hiding his socks for his poor SLP to dig out.  But that's neither here nor there for the purpose of this little tale.

Spencer, as the story goes, seemed fine with admitting defeat.  He probably looked at her and said, "'Kay..."  So, together they tromped over to his shoes and backpack, and proceeded to put on his one sock and both of his shoes.  His SLP then begins to put her foot into her shoe, and something doesn't feel quite right.  She reaches inside her shoe to pull out---by this time you've guessed, right?--Spencer's missing sock.  He didn't put both in the foam pit today.  He stuck one in her shoe, and stuck the other in the foam pit.  She said when she found it, he started cracking up.  He laughed and laughed.  And I'm sure she did too.  Thank goodness she can appreciate his antics.

And what, do you imagine, did his SLP gain from this experience with Spencer, the sock hider?  What conclusion did she draw at the end of her "funny" story?  That Spencer is really smart.  Again, what a blessed soul to tell me that story and end it with saying how smart he is.  Ha!  I have a feeling that won't be the same sentiment I will receive from his first grade teacher if he does something like that.  Then again, maybe it will be.  I've always said God knew what he was doing when he made Spencer so inordinately beautiful.  It is certainly paying dividends in speech therapy.