This week's speech therapy did not quite go as smoothly as the last. After an hour in the bland white walled office, Holly had had it. Really, I mean crying till she was purple. The OT was kind enough to "wait" for Holly to calm down. But you know, she can out last the Engerizer Bunny when it comes to crying. I finally called it quits, and requested we try again next week.
One thing I have noticed about Ms. Fiesty, is that she likes VARIETY. She likes outside especially with lots of flowers. She likes motion and color. Reminds me of Morgan Freeman in "Robin Hood" when he proclaims " Allah likes wonderous variety!"
God certainly does like wonderous variety, and Holly appreciates it all.
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Robert was like that too, and he was a colicky baby. I remember vividly walking him around, facing away from me and toward the world, and I'd have to explain things to him. I'd walk to the dog and tell him to say hi to the dog. I'd describe who was in the pictures on the wall and hold him up to see them. He didn't want to cuddle. He wanted exposure to anything that would take his mind off his troubles.
Once I had two normal babies, I was honestly worried they wouldn't be as smart as Robert, because they were both so content just to sit in their carrier and eat their hands and admire their socks. I didn't tell them half the things I told Robert. They didn't get nearly the visual stimulation that started becoming popular about the time that Robert was a baby. Now I know that everything I told Robert went in one ear and out the other. I could have been making stuff up and he wouldn't have suffered any long-term effects. Baby Mozart... bah! Baby BeeGees would have contributed equally to his intellectual development!
(ps... thanks for the surgery date update!)
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