Nathan has been gaining confidence since school started this fall and is becoming quite a talker. I'm finally feeling like we are getting to know Nathan, similar to when we got to know Ivy when she learned to speak. I don't know if his personality will "blossom" as drastically as Ivy's but these past few months I can see something start to happen.
Last Friday was our last night of speech at the U of U for this term. As we were driving Nathan was talking a lot. Nonstop. I was trying to listen to him and participate a bit but I was also trying to listen for traffic reports (this habit has saved us many headaches). It is difficult in our big Expedition to hear people clearly from the back and it's still challenging to understand what Nathan was saying and last Friday he was persistent. He kept saying "Did you hear that Mom?" "Aren't you listening?" "Listen to what I'm telling you!" And I was really trying but I was also driving and there was traffic and it was getting dark and I couldn't hear the radio and I was trying to watch the road and turn slightly so I could hear what he was saying when I missed the exit. We finally do make our way to speech (after turning around and missing another exit--I'm still rolling my eyes). Nathan spent the rest of trip saying "Are you sure this is the right road?" "Do you know where you are going?" "Shouldn't you call Dad and ask him where to go?" When he gets in the room with the clinician he was asked about his day and promptly responded "It was pretty good but my Mom doesn't watch the road when she's driving".
This came on the heels of last Wednesday's speech appointment when he was asked to make up a question using the word "spoon". Nathan replied, "My mom spanks me with a spoon". And he totally nailed the sp blends--there was no mistaking what he said. (In my defense I swear it's only happened once or twice. In his life.) Last Wednesday his teacher had made a card holder with him by taping a plastic salsa lid in half--it's a clever idea. She had tried this before and Nathan wouldn't use it because it smelled and so this time she had cleaned it and thought it was fine. He sniffed it and told her it still smelled and she smelled it and said she didn't smell anything so he told her "You have to put your nose all the way in it!" Both the girls working with him giggled about that for a while.
While relating these stories to a good friend she told me a sweet story about Nathan from this summer. She said she was very impressed with his diplomacy and that it gave her a bright spot for the day.
This summer, my doorbell rang frequently with small children on bikes wanting to use my tire pump. One small bike (belonging to Sam, who may have been 3 at the time) had a punctured inner tube that needed to be repaired or replaced, but as no solution was forthcoming, Sam and whomever he'd been with that day (siblings or friends) had come to my door daily wanting to have the tire repumped. By the fourth day, I had lost patience, and Sam happened to have come with Nathan.
In frustration, I cried, "I just don't have time to pump up this tire every day!"
Nathan, who acted as spokesperson, stood unperturbed by my frustration, and with calm composure stated rationally, "That's no problem, because I can pump it."
I averred, "Yes but every day I have to stop what I'm doing, get the pump from the garage, bring it here, wait while it gets pumped, and then put it away, and I have a pile of things to do!"
Nathan, undeterred and unflappable, continued his line of reasoning, "I can pump it up. Don't worry. You won't need to do anything."
Softened by his poise, maturity, and obvious interest in Sam's plight, I went to get the pump. And Nathan did do very well pumping it up.
His diplomatic, intelligent, and charitable approach had humbled me. And Sam got a new bike after that.
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