Play Date

Eleanor had a play date the other day. Her little buddy Taran came round to play. I use the term "buddy" lightly, because the last few times the two of them played, Taran spent most of his time trying to kick Eleanor in the head or throwing sand at her. Whatever. They are two. He's protective of his mummy. But they played really nicely, for the most part. Neither of them threw tantrums when stealing toys from one another, so I consider that I successful play date!

Kris came home and got to witness all this normal toddler behavior and was full of questions after they left. How old is he? How long has he been walking/talking? Did you see how sad Eleanor looked because she can't do those things? I'm not sure how sad she was - I certainly didn't see it - but I get that reality check-feeling. Taran is three months older, but it seems like a lifetime. He can formulate thoughts and feelings into sentences. He can put on his own shoes. He can follow complex instructions. He can run and kick a ball. He is a very normal 2 year old boy. We get lost in our own little world of Eleanor (especially after two weeks of concentrated family time), and we forget.

I've been filling out a form for her speech therapist to help gauge her vocabulary. I was excited to tackle this because I feel like Eleanor has made leaps and bounds in this area over the past little while. My excitement faded pretty quickly when I realized that while her comprehension is greatly improved, her speech is dismal. Most of her communication is through gesture and sign language, which is fine and works great for us, but it is not speech. She can parrot some sounds, but she really can't talk. But I can't get morose about it; that is why we are getting a speech therapist!

When I met with the therapist to discuss what Eleanor's treatment would look like, she used the term "special needs". I have used it myself in reference to my daughter but I have never heard anyone else say it. It's apt; it makes sense. She does have needs that are different from other kids. But the term always seems to be referring to kids with Downs or autism, so when it came out of this woman's mouth, I sucked in a quick breath. That's not her. Don't say that. And as my shoulders relaxed on the exhale, my thoughts switched to the rational truth. It's still hard to hear, though. I read a quote a little while ago that said "a child that falls behind is left behind" or something to that effect. It keeps coming back to haunt me, though I know she has come so far.

And still-photos are so deceptive! I keep catching shots of her and I marvel at how normal she looks! It doesn't show how quickly she comes out of kneeling and you can't hear how she drops the final sound off every word she says. She just looks like a normal toddler.

I've been working with her on using utensils. She hasn't shown much interest up til now so we haven't bothered too much. It's a slow process, but she's really getting the hang of the spoon, especially with foods she loves (yogurt, peas, chocolate anything). I never let her eat her own yogurt because we used yogurt to hide her meds. If she got it all over her face or flung it on the floor, we'd never know if the meds made it to their final destination. But now that Mitotane is out of the picture, she's free to dip and stuff and fling and smear all she wants. If I hold the bowl/container, she's actually pretty tidy. If let her do it...

Well, we still have a ways to go!