>A Poop by Any Other Name

>Scooby Doo talks in one word sentences that are often only understood by myself, his sister, or his dad. Once in a while his grandma can understand him too. The problem is, he really should be saying more then he does. It’s hard for me to compare him because his sister was speaking fluent sentences at his age (28 months), so I called in the big dogs.

Today was his big evaluation. He passed his gross and fine motor, sensory, and receptive language skills with flying colors. He even charmed the girl who was playing with him. He had his pillow under his head, his favorite blanket tucked around him, snuggling his beloved Tigger, and sipping contendedly from his sippy cup while watching the weird creatures on Yo Gabba Gabba dance around, from the perfect contentment of her lap. Despite his obvious attempts to swoon her, it was decided that he did indeed need some expressive language help, and we signed on for 6 months of Occupational/Speech therapy.

And I thought women liked men who knew how to be quiet?


Shoot the Poop with the Drama Mama!

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