Most of my blog topics could be categorized as fairly light-hearted or maybe even humorous. This time, I’m going to share a worry. All parents worry – about whether or not their kid will be smart, funny, loved by others or whether they will grow to one day make good choices in their lives. Those things are all somewhat abstract and fall into that nebulous realm of “one day.” Now, despite the fact that we’ve been very lucky and had a reasonably calm ride so far, I am stewing about something.
Stella has pretty much been at or even ahead of the curve for physical development. I swear if she had a pony, she could probably gallop out into the neighborhood and lasso up all the stray cats without any effort at all. She stands up in the rocking chair and “surfs” much to my dismay. But at 18 months old, she doesn’t speak other than to say “mama.”
She makes every sound in the world, every consonant and vowel combo you can imagine. We do and have always done the things you’re “supposed” to do – reading to her, flash cards, vocalizing whatever it is we’re doing. She just won’t get into it. The message boards online run the gamut. I probably shouldn’t read those anymore. I am a bit comforted by the fact that she does chatter and babble all the time, and that she does indeed hear and understand us. I think part of the problem is that she’s too busy running around or practicing her latest acrobatic maneuver. She has also become quiet adept at mimicking sounds she hears on her TV shows. But really no words.
We go to the doctor this week for a standard check up. At our last appointment, he mentioned that if she wasn’t speaking by 18 months, we might need to look at some kind of therapy. This kind of makes me nervous, angry, sad, and irritated. My “mom gut” tells me she’s ok, but I also don’t want to deny her some kind of intervention she might require. I guess we’ll find out.