Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Selective hearing

I don't know if it's because he's a boy, he's number two or he just plain doesn't care, but Charlie isn't talking all that much. We get a lot of yeahs, uh-ohs, more-mores, dadas, mamas and hot-hots (not in relation to the mama, sadly), and he loves to mimic Buddy, helicopters and cars. And that's about it. I would be worried, but I honestly think it was the same gig with Mary Clare. We worried and counted words and even had her do a light version of speech therapy for six weeks at Childgarden, and then boom—one day she was a talking machine. (It didn't hurt that we stopped talking for her, either.)

The good news is that Charlie understands everything we say to him. Sometimes it's shocking how much he understands. I've actually said, "No, Charlie, give me your right hand," and then was honestly surprised when he kept jabbing his left hand at me. And while listening comprehension is great and all, you better believe that it can backfire on you.

Last night after reading more than his fair share of books with Chip and Mary Clare, I broke the news to the little lad that it was night-night time and Charlie needed to go to his room. Just like that, he flew off of Chip's lap. Only, instead of heading to me, he ran to the wall, pressed his face against it and refused to acknowledge us. About anything. He even ignored Mary Clare's pleas for a hug. And so there he stood, with three people cajoling and pleading for his attention. But he was resolute. There would be no turning around, and there sure as hell would not be a voluntary walk to his room. So, I retrieved him, and that went about as well as you'd imagine.

I think I'm going to have to keep the video camera by my side during tonight's bedtime routine, as I'm certain there will be a repeat performance. And his determination is something else. More cute than infuriating, really. At least for now.

1 comment:

  1. We had the same thing with our second. She took what seemed to be a lot longer to talk but once she did...somewhere closer to being 2, she was talking up a storm. And like your son I wasn't worried beforehand because she could clearly understand everything we were saying to her.


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