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Being a Dad

 There is a gap between my son's receptive and expressive language -- meaning that he can often comprehend what you're saying, but his ability to respond is (at the moment) limited.


(In some corners, it's deemed unwise to tell your child's story; the story belongs to your child, and not to you. I've weighed pros and cons, and I've considered that apraxia is nothing to be ashamed of; writing about it is likely good for everyone. I don't want to be Momma Rose; I don't think that's what I'm doing. Oh, I don't know.)

My assignment is to hold a ball in one hand, and to forcibly press my lips together with the other hand. Then the lips pop and I say BALL. Again and again and again.

If my son responds in turn, there is to be a ticker-tape parade; candy should fall from the sky. Crowds should cheer; elephants should gather and trumpet. If no response occurs, I'm meant to shift the subject; fatigue is fatigue; "shame on you" is surely not the way to go.

I look at Josh and say, "Try something new. What's the worst that can happen?" But of course a change in routine is difficult; if it weren't, I would now have a full-time job, a novel or two under my belt, a well-managed nanny/daycare plan.

I attempt the teacher role, and Josh attempts to chat -- and neither one of us is fully comfortable. We do our best with the growing pains.
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