Mute white food elitist

I had been dreading it since the last checkup, six months ago. At every Baby Wellness checkup I feel like I say, ‘no’ to the majority of the baby milestone questions. This time (October 8th) was much better. I only said no to two questions: Is she eating a balanced diet?

I told the nurse, “no” and said that Sophia only eats “white foods”. I received a confounded look. I hear all these TV and radio ads explaining how to ensure a balanced diet by eating a variety of colors. Apparently, not everyone goes by the rainbow method. Judging by the initial look she probably thought I meant that were a bunch of racist pricks but acknowledge that our food is inferior. That’s not what I meant.

I cited examples, “bananas, apples, rice, and bread”. You know, white foods. It doesn’t matter how small I chop carrots to mix in, Sophia still eats rice one grain at a time, unless it’s clumped together and she is sure the entire clump is rice. The nurse asked if Sophia likes pasta. “Sort of”, I replied. She suggested sneaking carrots in by pureeing them with spaghetti sauce. I guess the nurse is colorblind. Marinara is RED. Because Sophia is a white food elitist, the nurse also suggested giving a multi vitamin. I don’t think she fully understands the problem. New things are bad and flintstones vitamins don’t come in white. Despite Sophia’s anti food color-ism she has moved from the 20th percentile in weight to the 50th. She is currently 26.4 pounds. She still in the 75th percentile for height at 35 inches.

The other question that received a resounding “no” was, “Does she have more than twenty words?” Not even if I count the baby signs that she uses. Sophia has won the recommendation of a speech therapist. We’re currently waiting for them to call to schedule the appointment.

Her hearing is fine. She understands commands and can follow a two-step request. She simply doesn’t speak. I’m not worried about her intelligence at all, it’s just frustrating as hell. I hope that we get something other than, “well just work with her”. I don’t know what else I can do. I don’t know how else to work with her. Some suggest videos, to which I respond, “how did we ever learn to speak before TV was invented?” Others suggest it’s because it’s just the two of us all day. I don’t know where they get that idea since I’m never home. I spent my whole summer at the park with Sophia and we were not alone. I also take her swimming twice a week where she hears me chatting with other moms and she receives interaction with them and the instructor.

Previously the nurse suggested that I probably anticipate her needs and therefore she doesn’t need words. The thing is, her needs are the first words she had. As soon as she learned the signs for milk, apple, and banana I forced her to use them when she wants food outside of meal time. I accept signs for things because if she were a deaf child those would be her words. It’s something she has learned in order to get a specific item, but the things she learned to sign she never attempts to say even though I say use word before giving her anything.

One of Sophia’s swim instructors overheard me talking to another mom about her lack of words and suggested that I just not give her things until she says the word. Yeah I did that after her eighteen-month appointment up until twenty-two months. You want to know what happens when I do that with my child? Four months of meltdowns and screaming. I did this with non-essentials and no words came of it. Sophia would have a thirty-minute fit and then move on. There’s no prying words our of this one.

And if I hear just one more person insisting that I just enjoy the wordlessness because I’m going to regret it when she starts talking – I’m just going to fuckin’ scream. Oh and I’ll send you my mute toddler because clearly you have no idea how frustrating it is to have such a demanding little person that won’t speak.

Velvet Ridge is dangerously close to Arkansas’ Bald Knob and from there it’s almost a straight shot to Cumming Iowa. However, Spread Eagle Wisconsin is a touch closer to Cumming and is a scenic trip just off old highway 69. 69 also leads to Felch, Michigan, though it’s usually a backdoor approach. I’d rather Ralph.

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Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

She placed each on the step above, took the next step, and then picked up each item. Always setting down and picking them up in the same order. This is how she carried her coveted sippy-cup, ‘friend’, and cell phone upstairs. Good thing it wasn’t a full flight of stairs. This could take all day!

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

I don’t know why the cat never liked Sophia. She has always been very gentle, surprisingly so, for a toddler. She never pulled his tail and always petted softly. Well, she has finally lulled him into a false sense of security and she now takes full advantage of it. Sophia will now spot the quietly lounging cat in a room and run in yelling for the sole purpose of scaring him. She loves it. She is pure toddler evil in the cat’s eyes.

Last weekend we went to the racetrack to watch motorcycle racing. I specify motorcycle as if there is any other type of racing acknowledged by Kurt, though I must agree it’s much more entertaining when a right turn is an actual possibility and not just a fatal flaw. In case you weren’t sure or missed it completely, yes, that was a dig on NASCAR.

At the track they built a playground in the parking lot. There was only one other parent with her three older-than-Sophia kids. As her kids played tag she kept reminding them that there is a smaller child, a ‘little one’ playing there too. As soon as I let Sophia go she ran to the back side of the play equipment. The area is fully fenced so I didn’t have to worry about Sophia running off. The other kids ran past Sophia and she let out a loud scream. The other parent thinking one of her children hurt mine jumped out of her skin and flipped around to see what was going on. Kurt also looked for her as well as a friend that was with us. When Sophia noticed she had scared the adults and all attention was on her she laughed, completely uninhibited laughter.

It pains me to have information that points in a sinister direction yet would have no affect if reported. I suppose that is what gives us all our privacy. I hope for the sake of possible victims and their families that this person proves me wrong. I hope already tapped potential is never fully achieved.

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man.

Weeks ago, I wondered how much she was picking up when I read to her. So when she hands me her “Happy Baby Words” book by Rodger Priddy instead of reading the words I asked her, “which one is a picture of eyes?”. It’s a small book and each page has four pictures with different things of a similar theme. “Which one is a picture of toes?” Each time she pointed and got it right. I was surprised that she really has been paying attention. A few pages into the book there is a series of pictures showing a boy getting dressed, “Which one shoes the boy putting his socks on?” She didn’t point to anything. I thought that maybe it was too tough. Then, not expecting anything I commented that it actually looked like the boy was taking his socks off. She immediately pointed to the correct picture.

As I was reheating leftovers for dinner last night, Sophia sat on the floor at the entrance of the kitchen reading “Go, Dog. Go!” by P.D. Eastman. She ran her finger across the words as she translated them to toddler-ease. She’s so frickin’ smart, not only can she read but she can also translate!

I’ve been working with her on her colors and realized a weeks ago that she may not be picking them up because she might think I’m actually giving a second or third name to an object, so now I try to point out other objects of similar colors as they’re mentioned in books. “Go, Dog. Go!” mentions a few of the basic colors. Pink is not one of the colors mentioned, but there are many pages of rather pinkish dogs are shown where color is not mentioned in the text. Sophia pointed to one of the pink dogs, uttered some gibberish and then turned to ‘Friend’, the blanket she cannot live without, and pointed to one of the pink flowers on it.

Later the oven beeped once to signal that it had reached the set temperature. Sophia stood up and called to Kurt downstairs. She didn’t say daddy, as a matter a fact I haven’t heard her say daddy in quite a while, but it was clear that she was trying to get his attention. She then rambled off something toddler gibberish in the same cadence I use to tell Kurt that dinner is ready. The gibberish didn’t sound anything like, “dinner is ready” and I didn’t say anything. Kurt, from downstairs, must have understood her the same way.

Kurt: Are you trying to tell me dinner is ready? I think that was just the oven reaching it’s temperature.

Sophia (making her way down the stairs to the room Kurt was in – steps into his view): Rah! Rah-rah-rah!

Kurt (laughing): Are you trying to scare me?

My laptop resides upstairs in our spare room right next to Sophia’s room. I can of course move it and use it anywhere, but usually that’s where I am if I’m using the computer. Kurt’s computer is a desktop and lives in the man cave.

After Sophia goes to bed, at eight, I turn off my speakers so that any site I happen to land on with sound won’t blast her awake. If I have a question, comment, or complaint for Kurt and he happens to be at his computer, rather than shout or walk all the way downstairs I will use the text feature on Skype.

Tonight I was on IRC with a friend coordinating her flight out here. Kurt was watching TV at the time so I went down to see how long we should invite her to say with us. “fourty-five minutes to an hour” he says. He’s such an ass.

Later Kurt went downstairs to his cave. I sent the proposed itinerary to him on Skype. I commented to him on how long she would be traveling for her return trip, I drop her off at the airport at 9pm and she wouldn’t arrive home until 9am the following morning. That sparked the following conversation between Kurt and Smarmoofus though me. Kurt Skyped the text to me and I pasted it onto IRC to Smoofy, and the other way around from Smoofy to Kurt.

Kurt: Of course it’s long. She needs to transfer planes 3 times, then get on a riverboat and go upstream 24 miles, then get on a mule and go 14 miles through a swamp.

Smoofy: He forgot about the canyon pass…

Kurt: I was thinking about that, but I figured Ar-Kansas probably doesn’t have any passes.

I’m such a geek and now I’m blogging about it. I think this must complete a geek mission and I should be leveling up at any minute.

Kurt and I just watched Gran Torino. Awesome move! Some of the script is a little awkward, but then again a lot of real-life teenage dialog is painfully awkward no matter the topic. At the very end, as the credit roll the Gran Torino theme song plays and we hear a voice singing that we don’t usually associate with music.

Me: Is that Clint Eastwood singing?

Kurt: Wow it is. That sounds like a piano being drug down a gravel road.

Me: He sounds like Gonzo!

Kurt (laughing): He Does! I can see Clint Eastwood serenading a chicken.

I couldn’t take it. It was the last straw. I went to bed early in order to have quiet time to myself in the morning but my tyrant toddler boss woke first. I’ve had it. I’m done with this job! I can’t take it anymore! Yet I want more, two more. I must be insane!

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

We thought it was so cute to have Sophia use our cell phones as teething rings when she was an infant. She drooled on mine until the recharge connection corroded so badly that the battery could no longer power up completely, so I took it out and the phone became hers. Without the battery, she didn’t like it any longer. There were no lights or beeping sounds when the buttons were pushed. She gave it up immediately and wanted my new phone. I didn’t give in to it this time. It’s the old phone or no phone kid.

Recently I’ve actually been carrying my cell phone around fully charged and everything. I’ve actually been using it a little and so Sophia had to find hers. Anytime I’m on my cell or even the home phone she’ll open hers and start chattering away. LOUDLY. I’m certain she’s mocking me. I can’t hear anything when I’m on the cell phone so I’m sure a speak up to somehow compensate, and she of course picked up on this.

Now that I consistently have my cell with me, so too does Sophia. She’s taken a new shine to the old dead phone, so much so that it takes naps and baths with her. The bath thing drives Kurt batty. He can’t stand that she’s taking electronics into the tub with her even though it doesn’t work at all.

I have to pry it out of her hand when we go swimming and explain that she can have it back when we are out of the water. I don’t think she trusts it’ll stay in the locker while she’s gone. It may party while she’s away and start to think that it can live without her. It’s a wild and independent phone, you know.

Thursday after swimming we went to the park and of course she had her phone. As she climbed up ladders she held the phone with her thumb and index finger, leaving the other fingers free to help her hold onto the bars. Occasionally she would put the phone up on the platform she was climbing up to in order to make the last steps easier. A couple times, she trusted me to hold her most valued possession, but as soon as she reached the top she would insist that she have it back before going down the slide. Someone might call her and she didn’t want to miss it.

I stayed on the ground as she ran about the play area. She passed some older boys (about ten years old) who noticed her cell phone. It was pure and instantaneous jealously, “She has a cell phone!” One shouted. Sophia paid no attention. I bit my tongue and held back laughter.

I can see it now. On the way home that boy tells his parents about the toddler with a cell phone and whines, “why can’t I have one?!”