Charlie has been on the waiting list for speech therapy for *ahem* seven months. They called today with an opening and will get him in for an evaluation in January.
Yeah, not so sure he needs it anymore. He now uses language to communicate a wide variety of needs, wants, emotions, thoughts, etc. Through all our repetitive play therapies at home, he's figured out how to use language for basic conversation and knows more words than I could begin to count. Unless they want to work with him on some of his phonetic blends so that the rest of the world will understand him proudly announce, 'Tawie mates bad toices!'
That one could use a bit of work. Apparently, so can Charlie, as he rather enjoys all those bad choices.
Speaking of Tawie and his bad toices, Dowlan was playing a little game with him the other day and asking him what sounds things make. He answered as follows:
Ghost says: Boo!
Pumpkin says: Twick-oh-twee!
Bad Pumpkin says: Boo-twick-oh-twee!
Mommy says: Good toices!
Melody says: Bad Tawie! Stop Tawie!
Dixie says: Stop that!
There is one thing I would love if someone could interpret for me, however. About three hundred times on an average day, I find myself repeating, "Yes, we can go on the waseway," while playing with his toys. Only I have no idea what in the heck that means. It isn't the racetrack, it isn't the roadway, it isn't anything I can think of and that mystery is about to drive me over the edge.