My oldest son talks less frequently than some other children, but he does "talk."
When he was younger than he is now, people often saw fit to remark upon his early attempts at communication in a less than complimentary manner. Stutters and stammerers are used to such treatment. The struggles of speech production are rarely appreciated, merely mocked. Initially I was ill equipped to either retaliate or educate. I took solace in the lonely thought that "I knew otherwise." I knew that his instincts were "keen."
Empowerment is an annoying but popular word. As a natural born wimp from birth, at some moment on the journey I decided to adopt this approach for my own children, not the wimpy but the empowering. I would learn to speak up, not be mealy mouthed, challenge and stand tall, but I’m still practicing.
I launch into a monologue of the glories of one of our cats. His attractive appearance, skittishness and howling yeowl. I wax lyrical of his charms, more dog like than cat, more intelligent and delightful than the average feline.
My son takes a step towards me to look me straight in the midriff.
“It’s not nice to have favourites.”
Some people learn better than others.
7 hours ago