Sometimes, I Wonder Why We Taught Him To Talk
It seemed such a good idea, at the time.
At the age of eighteen, my son has full command of a pretty extensive vocabulary and has become a reasonably articulate person. He can communicate well with a variety of people in all sorts of situations, just as we intended when we first began showing him alphabet blocks and board books all those years ago.
This doesn’t mean all his communications meet the, what he would consider, exacting, standards of his parents.
In other words, from time to time, we still tell him to watch his mouth.
The advice is to start early.
It’s good advice. So many studies have shown that a child’s mind is constantly growing and learning in their earliest years and language is one of the major things they are developing.
We read to our son from the very beginning. Of course, he wasn’t ready to follow along, even in a simple board book, at first. However, we read aloud whatever we happened to be reading.
He had his own books before long, though. His room was decorated with the alphabet, pictures with the appropriate word spelled out below, and so on. Everything the experts suggested, we did our best to follow.
It was fascinating to see how quickly he picked up the letters and words. That little sponge that was his brain took absolutely everything in.
Still, there was one stumbling block.
When my son was still too young to speak, but old enough to understand, he suffered the frustration that all children seem to have at that age. He wanted to communicate with us and often tried, but he couldn’t quite produce the words.
I read in some parenting book or article that teaching the child some simple sign language could help alleviate this frustration. By giving him the means to communicate basic ideas to us, his sense of self could benefit, as well.
What they didn’t mention was that, once the sign language was learned, there would be less incentive to struggle through the more difficult process of learning to speak. My son loved using sign language and was content to fall back on his favorite syllable — “Gah!” — for everything else.
The result was a child who could demonstrate a knowledge of the alphabet and could recognize and point out simple words (“Exit” was his first and favorite), but could not, or would not speak.
In the end, my husband and I had to pretend not to understand his sign language and “gah” any longer, so he would have to switch to words.
He gave us serious Stinkeye on more than one occasion as this transition took place.
Then, I wondered where to find the “off” button.
Once my son began talking, he never looked back. He had many questions and a lot to say.
So. Much. Talking.
People, he even talked in his sleep.
It was exhausting at times and frequently comic. There was seemingly no end to the flow of what he had to say. He had fully embraced verbal communication and was making the most of his new-found skill.
The next thing we noticed was the unusual collection of words he was adding to his vocabulary. He had a knack for going for the words that would be surprising coming from a three-year-old.
Elvis entered the building.
The most surprising was also the most hilarious.
My sisters were visiting over the holidays and, naturally, spent a lot of time with their little nephew. At some point during their playtime, story time, or other conversations, they had some occasion to explain the word, “pendulous,” using the dining room chandelier as an example.
A couple of weeks later, when the holiday guests had gone home and the new year was well underway, my husband took my son in for a bath. There was a sudden burst of laughter and a small figure streaked (and this word is peculiarly accurate in this instance) out of the bathroom and down the hall to stop in front of me.
Doing is best Elvis hip swing, my son pointed to himself and announced, “Look, Mommy! PENDULOUS!”
I am still quite proud of my response. I smiled, nodded, and said, “That’s right, dude. Pendulous. Who taught you that word? Really? Cool. Now, go get in the bath.”
Chuckling with delight over the successful use of his word, he did just that. I placed a three-way call to my sisters to get the backstory on his latest vocabulary acquisition.
If only all his new words had been that cute.
We had the inevitable experiences with less savory words through middle school and junior high. He served a lunchtime detention, wiping down the lunch tables with a few buddies, because a nun caught them telling off-color “Yo Mama” jokes.
Sometimes, the words were unobjectionable, but the tone and inflection were not. The eyeroll that generally accompanied these words weren’t appreciated very much, either.
I tried to remind myself that this was more of his process of developing language. The words were well and good, but usage was a more advanced skill set. I admit, I was more likely to tell him to take himself and his rolling eyes into his own room because, ugh.
The lessons are well-learned.
I can say, with a great deal of pride and a bit of relief, that my son has acquired very good verbal communication skills. He is well able to read, write, and converse in whatever manner he chooses.
This isn’t surprise, of course. After all, developing such skill has been a primary part of his education for many years. In fact, it will go on being an important part of his education as he begins his time at university.
In fact, I look forward to watching how his vocabulary and his skill in using it will grow even further as he launches into education in which my husband and I will have no part. This new education will be more specialized, as well, and I doubt I will astonish you when I tell you that my verbally communicative son is going to try his hand at learning the ins and outs of visual communication.
It has been quite a ride, but when it comes down to it, I am glad we taught him to talk.
