Our daughter was born two weeks late. I remember going into the hospital nursery and thinking she looked more developed than most of the babies. That’s when I concluded that this meant she would hit all her infant milestones and first-year benchmarks quicker than the rest.

I often think back on a story my dad told me from his childhood. My grandmother insisted that he was potty trained at 3 months old. When asked why, my grandmother said she would look in his crib, and, if his eyes were watery, she knew he had to go to the bathroom. A silly story, of course, but it only reveals to me how we convince ourselves how special our kids are for the “normal” things that they do.

But are children smarter because they talk earlier? Will they be more adventurous and dexterous because they walk earlier? Will they have a more developed and discerning palate if they eat earlier? If we read to them earlier will they read sooner? These questions can go on and on, but I can say that by pondering these issues too much we put undue pressure on both ourselves and on our daughter.

Infant milestones: Helpful or hurtful?

Our daughter missed some of the so-called earlier first-year benchmarks that she should have hit and those so-called failures fed into our neuroses. We questioned whether we were doing anything wrong or if there was anything wrong with our daughter.

Our doctor assured us that infant developmental milestones and benchmarks were only a guide. However, in a competitive world of “whose child was more mature and more advanced,” we were left wanting. We created a self-induced paranoia that got us worried that there was something wrong with our daughter. Were we to blame? There needed to be a reason. 

I remember when I was finally assured that to keep my sanity I should ignore those infant developmental milestones and other benchmarks. We just needed to do what we could to encourage our daughter no matter where she was in the growth process. This finally hit home at one of the dance/music/movement classes we had enrolled our daughter in.

We liked the class leader because of her ability to not only encourage and enhance the life of our daughter but also to be approachable to us as parents when questions arose. I remember the day of my “approach” like it was yesterday. Concerned our daughter was lagging because she wasn’t crawling, I went to her after class. I told her my concerns and she gave me a simple answer. She told me that when our daughter was ready to walk, talk, sing, or in our case crawl then she would do it. We should allow ourselves the peace of mind to know that our daughter would do everything at her own speed and when she was ready.

Guides, not absolutes

Sure enough, she was right. 

We continue to recognize this idea while attempting to potty train our daughter. We realized she understands the idea of going to the potty and will occasionally go; however, she just isn’t ready yet. She will tell us when that time arrives. 

I believe infant benchmarks are certainly important as guides, but that is only how we should use them. There are definite warning signs of developmental delay to be aware of. However, it is generally recommended to avoid hitting the panic button until your infant is missing milestones by several weeks. Then you should talk to your doctor.

Today, we have a child who through love and encouragement is where she is supposed to be right now. When we put pressure on ourselves to follow those benchmarks as the rule of law, disappointment and doubts in our ability as parents were too often the result. There was so much more nuance to raising our daughter. Instead of paying attention to where she should be, we need to just enjoy her for who and where she was at every “benchmark” age. 

Take it from a convert. Save yourself the anguish and enjoy your children as they are.  The mood swings and tantrums of an almost 3-year-old will make you long for the days when they couldn’t crawl, roll over, or talk. 

About the author

Matthew Pasher is a part-time stay-at-home dad. He’s an avid reader, and a Liverpool fanatic who can make a mean mac and cheese from scratch when asked.

This article first ran in 2012 and has since been updated.

Your child swearing is funny and cute when it starts. 

When your 4-year-old repeats an errant “What the hell?” or “Holy crap!” in the perfect context, it is hard not to laugh. Even funnier — a full-blown “f-bomb” in front of other kids at the playground or daycare.

I’m joking.

But, come on, it’s adorable. 

Until it isn’t. 

I am beginning to pass the discretionary line of cute-to-cringy when it comes to curse words being used by my elementary schoolers right now. And I’m unsure how to handle it. 

My two youngest children, ages 7 and 10, are not really swearing. They are just “soft swearing.” Using words like “crap,” “pissed,” “BS,” “shh,” and “freaking.” Their usage of these marginal curse words started with a few fleeting, innocent uses to emphasize a feeling. Now, they are thrown around casually and far too frequently for my tastes. During a recent week at church summer camp, my daughter was reprimanded for yelling “Oh, my God” to exude excitement.    

Who is to blame for the swearing tendencies in my youngest kids? I want to mostly blame my teens for gradually getting loose with their cursing around their younger siblings, but, honestly, I am also to blame. I am far too frequently using an “f-bomb” or “BS” to illustrate emphatic points. 

My rules for my child swearing

Should I be concerned with my kids using foul language?

Can/should rules be black and white about children cursing and using bad words?

Should similar rules apply to their parents?

Denying your child is swearing, or ever will, is crazy. So, from that reality, I believe there to be three versions of kid-cursing:

1. Swears I choose to allow (or not allow) in my house.
2. Words not permissible to use in the presence of other adults.
3. Foul language used socially with friends, teammates and/or classmates. 

Each, I gather, requires different rules from me. And, if I can be clear about those differences with my kids, my innate hypocrisy is covered. They will, no doubt, try to call me out when they slip up in using a word they have been able to use at soccer games, but not around their grandparents.

The first two versions – about a child swearing in the house and in front of other adults – are easy to manage. To me, kids routinely cursing to make a point before the college years is a no-no. While not judging other houses for letting kids throw down an “MF’er” during a heated conversation, I would prefer my kids to get into the practice of emphasizing points without swearing. The words my kids use reflect the way I speak – which, too often for me, involves colorful language I should have left out. I especially need to watch my mouth as I interact with my friends in front of my kids more. Our adult-to-adult conversations can get gnarly. All that said, to me, my children should not be swearing to or in the presence of adults, in my house or outside.

Teaching kids about cursing that happens around them socially, with their friends or at school, is much more difficult.

Over the past year, I’ve heard children at my kids’ elementary school use every bad word in the book – from those I’d consider marginal to the soap-in-your-mouth ones. My kids have watched in horror when I’ve called these potty-mouthed kids out: “Hey, watch your mouth around the school!” I find younger kids to quickly apologize for their lapse in linguistic judgment. Teens, meanwhile, flash a condescending-but-mildly-embarrassed type of look in my direction before quickly scurrying off. 

Cursing in the heat of competition

When the competitive juices are flowing on the fields of play, holding kids accountable for using foul language is much tougher. If you have a teenager, they are either talking or taking “trash” consistently – on the field, court, track, backstage, everywhere. 

I attempt to hold the line in teaching my kids to take the high road using clean language. However, certain times require some escalated, even bad, words.  Disciplining a kid for swearing during competition is far more subjective. 

If a “sh*t” comes out as a natural reaction after my son makes a bone-headed turnover, so be it. There just cannot be a rule here. Kids must learn through experience or, in this case, by making mistakes in the presence of adults whose definition of appropriate times to swear is different than mine. 

And that’s what makes this issue drip with variability. Every parent not only handles their child cursing differently, but the treatment of each instance also varies wildly by context, not just the time and place but the child’s age and level of vulgarity. For example, some parents are okay with the “s” word, but the “f” word is worthy of punishment.

This stuff is hard. 

We’re all in this together, I guess. I find comfort in the shared hypocrisy of my scolding our 15-year-old for swearing from the passenger seat when a car rolls through a stop sign in front of us while I laugh at our toddler who repeats the same curse from his car seat a few moments later.     

The are no swearing rules, after all. 

So, f*ck it. I’ll do the best that I can.  

Child swearing photo: © nicoletaionescu / Adobe Stock.

Yesterday I stopped by CVS and went through their seasonal clearance items, and came home with something I thought my 2-year-old daughter would be bananas over. It’s a yellow plastic cylinder, like the base of a flashlight, with a clear egg-shaped top made to look like a bee. When you press a button, the insides of the egg spin causing lights to flash and the whole thing to buzz and quiver. The toy cost 62 cents or approximately what it cost to make.

Sienna squealed with glee and I smiled because I’d made my daughter happy.

“Ear!” she shouted, eyes gleaming with fascination at this new sensation tickling her skin. She pressed the buzzing bee to her earlobe. “Nose! Arm! Elbow! Head!”

“Wait until your bedroom’s dark,” I said excitedly. “It’ll light up blue and green and yellow and red! Do you like how it vibrates?”

And then my innocently meant words hit me in an entirely different context.

I looked at the shape of the thing. The bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz sound echoed in my ears.

:: facepalm ::

To all you new or soon-to-be parents out there, letting these dirty things slip out of your mouth isn’t an abnormal thing. You’re all going to say something really simple only to do a double take as it sinks in that you’ve said a simple phrase you’ve happened to associate with Skinemaxian entertainment for the past decade or two.

At first, you’ll blush.

Then you’ll giggle.

Soon you and your partner will race to say, “That’s what she/he said!”

And finally, as your child gets older, and you and your partner try not to laugh at what one of you just said, you’re just going to do the old facepalm.

So I present to you the seven funniest phrases (plus one bonus Q&A that had me and my wife on the floor) I’ve said to my daughter that, when taken out of context, means something entirely different in the bedroom:

Dirty Things I’ve Said to My Child

No. 1: “Do you like how it vibrates?”

See above.

No. 2: “Please swallow!” and “Don’t spit! Swallow!”

The first time I said this (while trying to get my daughter to eat dinner) I literally cringed until I caught my wife’s eye and saw her trying so hard not to laugh. Then I just laughed along and went with it.

No. 3: “The girl was so wet, she was dripping.”

Ah, those fluctuating pre-air conditioner spring days when you put your kid down for a nap and discover her all sweaty and disgusting because her room was about 80 degrees.

No. 4: “You need to suck harder.”

Teaching my daughter how to use a straw. My wife beat me to “That’s what he said!”

No. 5: “She’s so cute, I just want to eat her.”

Can’t remember when or why I said it, but does it matter? When those words come out of your mouth, translate into adult connotations, and you realize you’re talking about your daughter? :: shiver::

No. 6: “Did you just put that whole thing in your mouth?!”

After Sienna gobbled an entire string cheese without chewing forcing her cheeks to look like she’d been gathering nuts for the winter.

No. 7: “Stop playing with your balls!”

Doesn’t apply to a girl, but it still generated a sideways look between me and my wife. Parents of boys are sure to love saying that one for the first time!

BONUS: One thing new and soon-to-be parents might not know is that kids sometimes take time to learn how to use their tongues correctly (:: facepalm::) meaning that the letter “L” often gives them trouble. Hence, I bring you the following interaction that had our daughter standing with such a gloriously proud and pure look on her face:

Me: “Sienna, what do you want for dinner?”

Sienna, pointing at the wall clock: “C*ck”

What can we parents do but cackle?

A version of Dirty Things first appears on Raising Sienna. Photo: ©Krakenimages.com / Adobe Stock.

There were butterflies everywhere, so many that I was hesitant to open my mouth for fear one might accept the invitation. Besides, taking this walk was my turn to listen.

The only sounds were a panting dog and the distant waves of traffic.

My oldest son, on the cusp of 16, was a step ahead, leash in hand and disappointment everywhere. The walk had been my idea — even though he and the dog have a daily date to do so — this one wasn’t to schedule and being voluntold for the excursion conflicted with his plans to plan nothing. The dog, however, was thrilled.

The hope for a conversation was fueled by my latest parenting fear: the lingering thought that I haven’t done enough. This came on the heels of a brief respite during which I accepted a decade of melancholy, watching windows close and hands grow too big to hold. That was apparently over now and often for naught. After all, the teen years have been a pleasant surprise in independence and new levels of bonding. Sure, the kids are somewhat more skeptical now, and my advice is routinely challenged, but that’s OK. They should be skeptical. They should question authority. I’m as full of crap as the next guy.

But now, with two teen boys on the constant verge of yet another milestone, my moment of zen has been bombarded with doubt. Watching them melt into their own devices, usually at the expense of family time, kind of hurts.

My wife and I have talked about it. A lot. We want the boys to do their own thing, to find whatever it is that they enjoy and then enjoy it; but when that thing is being away from us, not doing much of anything, well, that hurts, too.

We give them space. We give them choices and support, ponder options and consequences in their general direction, keep them fed and hold them accountable. So what is the “enough,” or lack thereof, that haunts me? Change is a challenge, be it something we want to see or the downright Kafkaesque.

Welcome to the teen chrysalis. We are pupa-adjacent, and it takes a while.

The butterflies fluttered as they do, floating flowers on cartoon wings against the brilliant blue of the morning sky. They flew independent of one another, together in focus and direction, yet separate through the slipstreams. Between them was space to stretch and grow, traveling companions always on the horizon. None of them seemed particularly interested in my mouth.

“Do you know what they call a group of butterflies?” I asked as we turned around the oak tree.

“No,” he said. “What?”

“A kaleidoscope,” I said.

“That’s a good name,” he replied. I agreed.

We stood in the shade for a moment, watching the park breathe with kids, parents and dogs. The only sound was a swarm of laughter.

The words flew easier with our backs to the wind.

Teen years photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Conversations with my teenage daughter, a 14-year-old post-millennial, often start with me knocking on her bedroom door. It usually doesn’t get better from there. Until it does.

Knock, knock

Me: Hey there.

Her: What.

Me: Can I come in?

Her: Do you need to?

Me: Yes.

Her: Want to take a minute and think about it first?

And that’s how many conversations with my teenage daughter end … without resolution.

+  +  +

Knock, knock

Her: (No answer.)

Me: I’m coming in, OK?

Her: I’d rather you didn’t.

Me: I don’t want to talk to you through a door.

Her: Really? Because I find it comforting.

+ + +

Knock, knock

(Opening my door and sticking my head in.)

Me: Hey. I need you to pick up your room, please.

Her: Why?

Me: Because it smells weird and we have company coming over later.

Her: Company won’t be coming in my room, will they?

Me: Please just clean up in here.

Her (looking around room): I’m pretty sure it looks fine. Plus, it’s my room. Don’t I get to decide how it should look?

Me: Not when there’s an odor involved.

Her (getting up from bed with a tremendous sigh): You know, this is SO typical. We were talking about it in Government Studies.  YOUR generation makes a mess and MY generation has to clean it up.

Me: That’s a really good point. But my generation didn’t leave an old banana under your desk for three days.

+ + +

Knock, knock

Me: Hey. What’re you up to?

Her: What? Why? Am I in trouble? What did I do now?

Me: You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to see what was happening up here.

Her: I’m actually really busy right now.

Me: You’re lying in bed looking at your laptop.

Her: It just so happens I’m having a really important conversation online. Could you close the door?

Me: In a minute. What’s the really important conversation you’re having?

Her (eye roll): Do you really need to know? I mean, is this information that you need to have in your day?

Me: If you’re talking to a 50-year-old man who’s pretending to be a 14-year-old gamer named Kylie, then yes. Yes, that is information I need to know.

Her: Oh my GOD. Be more paranoid.

Me: So who are you messaging with?

Her: Hannah.

Me: Oh. Hannah from school?

Her: YES, DUH.

Me: How is she?

Her: She’s great, except for the fact that her parents always barge into her room and invade her privacy.

Me: I see. Then I guess you guys have a lot to talk about.

Her: We do. Could you close the door, please?

+ + +

Knock, knock

Me: Hey. What’re you doing?

Her (focused on her laptop screen): Playing Undertale.

Me: No playing video games until after you do your math homework.

Her: Brad says he prefers us to do our homework in class.

Me: Who’s Brad?

Her: My algebra teacher.

Me: He lets you call him Brad?

Her: Yeah. He’s cool. He totally gets the fact that learning is a collaborative process and it’s better if everyone is on a first-name basis.

Me: Oh. Well. That is cool. And you’re saying he never gives you actual homework?

Her: He says that if we do math at home, we may not use the right methods that we do in class.

Me: You know, I can probably help you with it if you want. I was pretty good at algebra.

Her: Brad says parents aren’t able to understand the kind of algebra we do.

+ + +

Knock, knock

Me: Hey, there.

Her: Hey.

Me: I’m just checking in about your science project.

Her: What about it?

Me: Did you do it yet?

Her: Oh. Yeah. Mostly yeah.

Me: What do you mean “mostly”?

Her: It’s almost completely done.

Me: Great. That’s great to hear. How much is left to do?

Her: What do you mean?

Me: I mean, if we turn your science homework into a pie chart and we divide it up into the portion that’s done, and the portion that’s not done, what would it look like?

Her: You know, Dad, sarcasm isn’t productive.

Me: (Long pause.) Fine. Good point. So, how much of your science project have you done so far? Just walk me through the progress you’ve made.

Her: Welllllllll … I spent a lot of time thinking about it, and I chose a topic.

Me: Great. That’s a great way to start. What’s your topic?

Her: Something about the Laws of Motion.

Me: O … K. So, what else have you done?

Her: I picked out the color of my poster board.

Me: And?

Her: And that’s it.

Me: That’s it? Isn’t it due in two days?

Her: You can’t rush scientific discovery, Dad.

Me: You’re right. You can’t. You also can’t let distractions interfere with genius.

Her: Hey, what’re you doing?

Me: Nothing.

Her:  What are you doing? That’s my phone.

Me:  Don’t mind me. I’m just taking your computer and your phone and your iPad downstairs for a while.

Her: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

Me: See you in a couple hours.

Her: OHMYGAWDTHATISSOUNFAIR. I was just about to get back to work on my project!

Me:  Totally unfair. Bye now.

Her:  DAD! Why do you have to be so MEAN!!

Me: I know. You’re right. I’m awful. I’m Darth Vader. See you in a couple hours.

+ + +

Knock, knock

Her: Come in.

Me: Is that a joke?

Her: No. You can come in.

Me (inching into the room slowly): You … you didn’t install a trapdoor or anything in here, did you?

Her: No.

Me: OK. Just checking. (Sitting down next to her on her bed.) You sound sorta down.

Her: I am, I guess.

Me: What’s going on?

Her: Nothing, I guess. I mean, nothing major. I was just texting with Hannah.

Me: How’s she doing?

Her: Not great. Her parents are separating.

Me: Oh. That sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.

Her: Yeah. I mean, it’s OK. She basically knew it was going to happen, but they just made the decision today.

Me: Does she sound OK?

Her: I think so. I mean, I’m sure she’s not, but you know.

Me: I know. It’s not easy.

Her: I hate it when my friends go through hard stuff.

Me: I know.

(We silently sit for a while.)

Her: I’m sorry I can be cranky sometimes.

Me: It’s OK. We all get cranky.

Her: I don’t know if it’s hormones or just my personality.

Me: I vote hormones.

Her: Yeah.

Me: Trust me. You’re fine.

Her:  OK.

(Pause.)

Her: Can we watch a movie tonight after dinner?

Me: Sure. Maybe we could watch Finding Nemo again.

Her:  Yeah.

Me:  You want some time to yourself before then?

Her: Yeah.

Me: OK. Come on down when you’re ready.

Her: I will.

Me:  You’re my favorite human.

Her:  You’re my favorite human, too. Love you.

Me (closing her door behind me, heart quietly melting):  Love you, too.

+ + +

Photo for Conversations with My Teenage Daughter: Kevin McKeever

I was convinced that when I became a parent that I would not use baby talk. It seemed useless and demeaning. My wife and I have been more interested in speaking to our daughter mainly using our common vocabulary. I did not, however, realize that my daughter would be partly responsible for increasing my vocabulary and word building in a way that would have impressed William Shakespeare, or better yet, Dr. Seuss.

Here are a few of my favorite words and expressions that have become a part of this new language of parenthood due in large part to my daughter:

Science claims babies say “dada” before “mama” because it’s easier for their little mouths to pronounce. I call “BS!”* 

Science ain’t got nothing to do with it. Nature’s not at fault. Neither is the caveman (or whoever) who came up with nomenclature for calling parents “mom” and “dad.”

So Ms. Mom, if you want to see the person to blame for your child squealing “Daddy!” for the thousandth time before you get to hear the sound of her precious voice uttering those two amazing syllables “Mom-mee,” well then just go ahead and look in the mirror, lady.

It’s all your fault! ALL. YOUR. FAULT!

Let me explain.

I am a stay-at-home dad, and it took FOREVER for my kids to say “dada.” It was all “mamma” and “mommy” and “maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhm!!!!!” for my wife. But for this guy, who was home all day with them, tending to their every need, whim and desire? Bubkis.

“Don’t worry,” people said. “She’ll say ‘daddy’ soon.” Or, if they were being insensitive jerks, “Huh. Most kids say ‘dada’ first. That’s so weird.” Grrrr .

Both of my kids did melt my heart when they eventually cooed my name. But they sure took their sweet time about it! Why? What the hell took so long? Science (and all those insensitive jerks) told me they should have said “dada” first!

I had to come up with an answer that made me feel better about myself. And, if you’re feeling bad that your cherished bundle won’t say your stupid name, maybe you can use this same excuse. Here it is:

As the primary caregiver, you are selfless! When you’re playing with your baby, it’s never about you. You talk about your spouse. You show your tiny tyke pictures of the parent they don’t get to see all day. “Who’s that? Who’s that? That’s right! It’s daddy!!!” (Or, in my case, “it’s mommy!!!”)

Of course my kids didn’t say my name for a long time! Because I love their mother so much, I constantly talked her up. (Oh, hi, honey. I didn’t know you were going to read this.) So it was only natural that they invariably asked for her and shouted her name when she came home from work.

There it is! That is the reason your baby said “dada” first. You only have yourself to blame.

Don’t feel too bad if that stubborn little brat adorable little darling won’t say “mamma.” It means you’re doing something right. If, on the other hand, that cherubic face did utter “mamma” first … well, then you might want to start reevaluating. (Kidding!)

Who knows why babies do what they do? I’ll tell you who doesn’t: science.**

*The views expressed in this article are not backed by any actual “evidence.” I just wanted a self-aggrandizing excuse for why my kids took so long to say “daddy.” Is that so wrong!?!

**It’s possible that “science” may know.

— A version of this first appeared on Amateur Idiot/Professional Dad.

I am a stutterer. My wife used to be a stutterer. When we noticed our two-year-old began to stutter really badly, we began to worry. With our own histories and with our daughter’s bout of speech delay we did what any parent would do, look up stuttering in toddlers on the Internet and then call a speech therapist to have him evaluated.

My son who has a huge vocabulary had a bit of a stutter as he started putting full sentences together. But when we really noticed it, was when the stutter got really pronounced, and he told us while shopping at Target that he couldn’t say something. That prompted us to call our wonderful and trusted speech-language pathologist, Beth Fine, whose team at Fine Communications performed nothing short of a miracle with our daughter. Ms. Fine was very willing to see our son for an evaluation.

We brought him in for an evaluation, hoping for the best, and fearing the worst. According to The Stuttering Foundation, approximately five percent of all children go through a period of stuttering, and it’s nearly four times as prevalent in boys as it is in girls. The vast majority of childhood stutters recover within a few months.  But with the start of nursery school only six months away, we didn’t want to risk delaying getting him the help he might need.

Ms. Fine put him through several exercises –  initially with some toys and then eventually going through a book of pictures to identify them. He was just rattling things off. He did the early light stutter which didn’t bother us,  but the heavy stutter seemed to be gone.  She gave us the best news! It was the normal level of stuttering, a mild form of dysfluency that we shouldn’t worry too much about.  She continued to say that since he has so many words in his vocabulary available to him he stumbles over stringing them together into sentences.  Ms.Fine gave us some tips to help him…including at least one that contradicted something we read online and had started doing (telling him to slow down). Some of her other suggestions are:

– Speak slowly to your child.
– Look at your child when he/she is speaking.
– Use simple sentences and vocabulary.
– Do not talk about your child’s speech in their presence.
– Do not correct them, just let them talk.
– Try not to be critical and don’t focus on their mistakes.
– Be patient.

So with instructions on how to help our son, and an invitation to bring him for more professional help if he doesn’t progress, we know that he will be ready for Nursery school in the fall.

While an evaluation with a qualified person is ideal, The Stuttering Foundation has a really helpful pamphlet about what is in the normal spectrum of development and what really requires intervention.

Today my daughter said her name. Over and over again, and it was glorious. For most of the years that she has been speaking, she usually just referred to herself as “Me.” But today she became “Olivia.”

About two years ago, she was saying some words here and there. We knew what she wanted. She had made up a little language that was a combination of English, Armenian and babbles. My wife and I figured most 2-year-olds were like this.

We spent a weekend with my best friend and his family down in Virginia. They have a son who is six months older than our daughter and he was having a full-on conversation with us. My wife and I were stunned. Either that child is super advanced or our daughter was falling behind. As it turns out, their son is an extremely bright little guy but we would soon find out our Olivia was falling behind.

When we returned home, we took her to her pediatrician and he evaluated her. He thought it could be a speech delay, but did not detect any other warning signs for any other developmental delays. Part of it could have been attributed to being exposed to three languages (English/Armenian/Spanish). He recommended that we have her evaluated by the Department of Health, as they will provide speech therapy free of charge for kids with speech delay.

Speech delay common

According to the Gale Encyclopedia of Children’s Health, anywhere from 3-10 percent of kids aged 3-16 have some sort of speech delay. Some of the symptoms include:

• Failure to meet the developmental milestones for language development
• Language development that lags behind other children of the same age by at least one year
• Inability to follow directions
• Slow or incomprehensible speech after three years of age
• Serious difficulties with syntax (placing words in a sentence in the correct order)
• Serious difficulties with articulation, including the substitution, omission, or distortion of certain sounds

A social worker visited us, and we spoke about who she is in contact with. What languages does she hear? What words does she say, and a whole multitude of questions. A few weeks later, a speech therapist and an occupational therapist visited our home. Olivia spent a few hours with them. And then we would have to wait.

The results came in and while, yes, she had a speech delay, she didn’t have enough of a speech delay to warrant speech therapy from the city. We were free to get her re-evaluated in six months. We didn’t want to wait.

We are fortunate we were able to pay for a pathologist out of pocket, our insurance wouldn’t cover it, but the head of the practice was able to cut us a deal. And in the back of our minds, it was better to do it privately funded so this delay wouldn’t be on any permanent records that could follow her in her academic career.

Yes, the weekly payments were tough to budget in every week. But as she went we could see the change.

She couldn’t wait to do her homework from Ms. Stephanie, mostly matching words to pictures. I had initially worried that she would be too stubborn to want to do the homework, but I was totally wrong. She would frequently ask to do her “words” as we rode the subway back home. A few weeks later she started going to a daycare program a few days a week, she was opening up, and the teachers were able to understand her more and more. Now as she is almost done with nursery school, her teachers can understand her most of the time, she is making more friends. She has conversations with them, and I couldn’t think of a better way to have spent all that money.

Recently, Olivia was tested by her pathologist and she tested above age level for the first time since this had all started. We were all blown away; it has been a long road (which is still ongoing) and it’s taken lots of patience and teamwork to get us where we are now.

It’s funny, had we not gone to visit our friends, we would have assumed that she would grow out of it and eventually talk “normally” but by being proactive (and in all honesty being competitive) we have made sure that Olivia is on the right track.

Why does my toddler constantly ask “Why?” Should I be annoyed or concerned?

First of all, as you might have guessed, my almost 3-year-old asks why hundreds of times per day and since I am with him most of the time, I usually get to handle the response. Initially, I was amused. I couldn’t believe he was asking why about everything he saw, observed, and experienced. My patience could have easily worn thin as it does with some other aspects of parenting. However, after an entire week of this, and looking into my son’s eyes, I could see he genuinely wanted specific answers about how the things in his world work. So cool! So, I am rolling with it.

Consulting one of my favorite sites, BabyCenter, “It’s also a way for her/him to engage you in conversation, and keep you talking. If you get tired of the constant whys, don’t simply fall back on ‘that’s just the way it is.’ Instead, try to deflect them by asking her what she thinks.”

Sound advice, right?

So, instead of answering my son all of the time with my infinite wisdom, I do push his questions back at him sometimes. My son’s response was, “Why because why?”

“Well, why do you think?” I reply.

Again, he asks, “Why because why?”

And so I answer him in the best way possible with an answer that seems to satisfy him. Even though my little “broken record” continues to fire off his line of questioning, I maintain my patience, and have not caught myself replying ” that’s just the way it is.” Maybe, it is the teacher in me.

The most amusing twist I have found on this toddler ‘ask why” phenomenon is from our friend TheKidDictionary in New Jersey.  He coins this frequent occurrence: WHYARRHEA (n) A child’s string of questions rattled off in rapid-fire succession.

Photo by Emily Morter on Unsplash