Dog days

So, having said all that…

I had a good chat with a dear friend who spends a lot of time with my son. She has a lot of experience working with children and talked me through the process for getting a professional assessment. They way she put it, it would be worth ruling out anything more systemic and useful to know if there’s anything more we could be doing to support my sweet boy’s language development.

I called and made an appointment with our GP for a referral.

That damn annoying tune from Annie disappeared immediately.

Maybe I am not unlike most three year olds in that I will usually only do something if I think it’s my idea.

Or maybe, like most self-aware adults, I just want to be sure that I am doing things for reasons that feel right to me.

But likely I also needed to shine a light on the places where I was avoiding doing something because I feared it would put me in league with parents whom I have seen talking negatively about their children in front of others, labelling their shyness or reticence as disability, relentlessly compare them unfairly to others.

When I returned home later that day, after running a few errands, I was confronted with an enormous dog turd, right in front of our front gate, that some thoughtful neighbour had decided against cleaning up.

The universe has a sense of humour.

I do not.