When I was younger my parents were convinced I was deaf or slow or both. I didn’t talk until I was about three, which had them stressed and making appointments with doctors, specialists and speech therapists every other day.
But I had them stumped. I cried normally, reacted, responded sans sound, walked and did everything else as per the developmental stages said I should but there was no speech.
And then I was found out. I’d tell my older brother what I wanted or needed and he’d either get it for me or ask my mom or dad for it. Whether it was my dummy or favourite snack, I’d pass the request on and it would appear. I had me my own little minion and I was making the most of it.
Emma and Ben don’t have that problem. They’re pretty vocal when they want something and in Ben’s case if you’ve misunderstood what he’s asked for you get a stern NO. But there are days when he has a new word and we have no idea what he’s wanting. We then call Emma in, our interpreter, and she’ll tell us what he’s saying.
This morning Ben had me by the hand, walking around the house saying ‘pinger’ or ‘pengone’. I had no idea what he was on about. I asked him if he wanted my finger and I got a NO. Did he want a pen that’s gone? NO. Had he seen a penguin? NO. Did he want a penguin? NO. Eventually I asked Emma to help me figure out what the little man was asking for. She took him aside and asked him to tell her. He said it again. ‘Pinger’ or ‘pengone’. Emma looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. She then asked Ben to repeat it, but to whisper it in her ear. Which he did. Just not very quietly. I clearly heard the same word again.
Emma turned to me and said “Ben would like a cupcake for breakfast and he says I must have one too!”