Speech Therapy for Dogs

A few weeks ago, a qualified person, someone working in a tall hospital building and wearing a white coat, told me what I'd known for months because I'm a mother and have that weird thing called instinct. She told me that my son needs speech therapy. It's been a ridiculously uphill battle even getting to the point of standing in front of her and asking her to make this assessment. I akin the battle to pushing a locomotive uphill with one arm that's been amputated at the wrist.

Still, I'm thrilled. Maybe thrilled isn't the right word. No one wants there to be something "wrong," with their kid. I'm thrilled that I might get to hear him refer to me as something other than "AAAAAAH" in the near or somewhat distant future.

In his long and illustrious speaking history, he's managed to utter all of one word and it has shown us just how he feels about the hierarchy of our family, which is all too nuclear in it's inclusion of Dad, Mom, Cat and Dog. He proudly and repeatedly throughout the day shrieks with glee, "EDDIE!!!" That would be the dog's name.

Clearly, he must realize that the dog loves him more than his mother or father and is thus deserving of all this attention. Of course, when Collin's fusses are crackled over the monitor and me, the Mommy knows it's nothing and I choose to ignore it, it IS Eddie who is tearing around in circles in front of the monitor, whining and looking at me like, "aren't you going to DO something about this? Our kid is in trouble in there!" He makes me feel a bit negligent if, in the morning, I pee before going to get him when he's crying to get up.

In a way, it's a bit sweet that he loves the dog so much, especially if you could see the hugs and kisses Collin bestows on him more than regularly. But, this animal love is starting to go a bit far now that instead of working on Dada or Mama, he's struggling to string together a coherent sound for the cat too.

We're starting to hear, "yeow yoew" every time Homer, the cat, walks by. I've heard from other parents that Mama is often one of the last things they say because we're the ones who are always there and therefore there's never a need for them to ask for us. I guess that's a nice way to think of it. But then again, have you ever seen a dog who wasn't in your face, tongue at the ready?

All I know is that if he runs through labeling everything in this house, from dishwasher to lawn chair before he bothers saying, Mama, I'm going to get rid of the dog. Kidding, he was here first. We'll see how it goes. He starts therapy next week.