Owen is the strong, silent type.
Well, not exactly. He speaks fluent Vietnamese (or is it Cambodian? The dialects kill me.) But he doesn't say much that we can understand. His pediatrician said he's at about an 18 month level. He's not overly concerned.
I had him "assessed" last week because he's "supposed" to be speaking more at 2. I'm not sure I'm being fair to judge him like this. I want him to do things at his own pace - not what the book says he should do. But I also don't want him to fall behind if there is a problem. He was early with everything else. He walked at 9 months. He's coordinated. His daycare teacher say's he's "freakishly strong". Other mothers shoot me horrified glances at the park as I sit and watch him climb up the ladder unattended. And then they shriek when he jumps from the three foot high landing to go do it all over again.
He certainly isn't "delayed" in anything but his speach. The assessor asked me if he spoke 50 words. 50? Are you kidding? Well, last night I started a list (I wish I'd done this with Finn because it's really kind of fun.) and, low and behold, he has nearly 40 words. Not all of them exactly clear, (POK = pocket) but 40 just the same.
So, he's not as far off the mark as I had feared. The assessor was on the fence, but recommended further testing. I don't think I'm going to pursue this yet. Maybe it's realated to "Second Child Syndrome" where he doesn't get as much attention from us as his brother did. I want to spend more time with him practicing his sounds; encouraging him to speak. He loves for me to sing to him (Finn not so much: "Mama, please stop singing") And he's really discovered his love of books in the last month or so. Perhaps a little more attention will help.
It certainly can't hurt.
1 comment:
Patrick, my third, turned two in March and only had about 3 words under his belt at the time. We were a little concerned and I was ready to make an appt for an assessment when he slowly started saying more words. Now he adds a couple of new words everyday.
Like your Finn, Patrick hates my singing. He always has. Before he could talk, he would cover my mouth with his hand. Now he says, "No ding, mama! No ding!!"
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