Sure Plays a Mean Pinball

At 17 months, Lucas still isn't talking. Oh, he has spoken some: cheese, da (dad), key (kitty), up. But most of these words have since been retired leaving only the occasional hi and dow(n)!, the latter of which he uses primarily to discipline our keys when they get out of line. Don't get me wrong, he's by no means a quiet child. He babbles constantly, animatedly even, in a language I can only refer to as "Lucanese." It sounds a bit like yodeling punctuated with an occasional, self-appreciative laugh. I, of course, am convinced that something is horribly wrong, while my husband is convinced that I'm horribly worried for nothing.

I just find it ironic, I guess, that my child is a late talker. Anyone who has met me can attest to the fact that it's hard to shut me up once I get going. To underscore my point--when I was in the third grade, we put on a play called "The Case of the Missing Parts of Speech," and I was cast as the adverb "Too Much." My costume? A rainbow t-shirt and bright orange pants. You can recognize an adverb if you really try. It may help you if you notice that they often end in l-y! In high school I won all kinds of speech contests (with real trophies!) and even the community theatre's drama scholarship. But my kid? No talkie.

So basically now I'm just sitting around (getting fatter and) waiting for his verbal explosion, rumored to hit most kids around the 18-month mark (18 days away and counting). In the meantime, people do their best to pacify me with stories about their own late-talking toddlers, but mostly I just nod and smile politely. Too vivid are the sounds of my niece's perfect little voice. Sure, she's 4 months older than Lucas, but her words have always been clear, even early on-- "Baby!" "Kitty!" "Mommy!" And then there's Jim's boy, Noah, who is also 4 months older than Lucas. He not only knows his muppets, "This week he learned to say 'Bert' and 'Ernie' in the same day!" and his numbers (except for "2" apparently), but he has also graduated into the world of, "Fuck!" and other expletives.

I do find some comfort in the fact that otherwise Lucas is an excellent communicator. He waves, points, signs "All done," goes to his highchair when he's hungry, taps the fridge when he wants his sippy cup of milk, delivers a shirt to the cat when he wants us to dress it (another story entirely). And he is excellent at following directions--loves to put his own used diapers in the Diaper Genie, walks back to the crib at naptime, fetches random items on request, helps to put on his shoes, and so on. It's just that whole talking thing he doesn't quite get. Not yet, anyway. Not quite yet.