Messes, Speech, and Pictures.

Messes:

This evening, Camden pulled my makeup bag off the bathroom counter and then proceeded to dump nearly an entire container of liquid foundation onto the bathroom rug. As if that mess wasn't quite up to his standards, he then rubbed his hands in the spilled makeup, and walked around the bathroom leaving little handprints on the counters, shower door, and bathtub. (The truly sad part? I was also in the bathroom, less than a foot away from him, with my back turned. He is silent and sneaky when getting into trouble.)

After I threw him in the tub and scrubbed his little made-up hands, we went into the kitchen to make Matt's lunch for tomorrow. While I was throwing deli meat on bread slices, I heard some rustling in the pantry. And then, milliseconds later, I heard the unmistakable sound of potato chips (an entire bag!) being crushed on the hardwood floors. I rounded the corner to the pantry and looked down to find a little blonde boy pointing at his latest mess, wearing a very proud smile.

At times like this, I can only laugh. Well, I could cry. Or scream. Or rip my hair out. But what would be the point in that? Leaving waves of mess and destruction is a rite of passage in toddlerhood, and consequently, in toddler parenthood. (At least that's what I told myself while I made Matt sweep up the crushed chips.)

Speech:

Our second speech therapy session last week went better than the first, though that's not saying a whole heck of a lot. I'm a super timely person, and our therapist has managed to be 15 minutes late to both sessions so far. I keep telling myself that not everyone is borderline obsessive about being on time, and that maybe I need to look at her arrival time as a moving target: she'll be at our house between 9 and 9:30, not 9 on the dot.

Thankfully, she did come prepared this time. There was structure. Camden was (mostly) interested in her games. I felt more connected to her.

She did mention apraxia again, but I didn't let it phase me this time. After all, I'd already heard it. And replayed it again and again and again in my head. And I'd already been to the ends of the internet researching it. It's a possibility, not a diagnosis, I reminded myself. But, at the same time, I am bracing myself for the very real possibility that it does eventually become a diagnosis.

Camden's signing abilities continue to explode. I'd venture to say that signing (intermixed with babbling) is his primary means of communication now. Many months ago, we bought him a Baby Signing Time DVD, but he had very little interest in it. I've taught him every sign he knows by showing him the sign myself first, and then actually taking his own hands and manuevering them to make the sign. He seems to learn best by doing, not simply watching a video.

We've also heard some new sounds from him over the past few days-- not words, just sounds. His babbling has shown more inflection and has been intermixed ("dadenabada" instead of "dadadada"). Every time he makes a new sound, I feel hopeful that maybe a language breakthrough is just around the corner. I'll tell you what: his lack of speech is not directly correlated to a lack of effort. My little guy works so hard.
Pictures:

When Camden was 6 months old, we got a new patio and I stuck his tiny feet in the wet cement, leaving perfectly adorable baby footprints behind. Camden loves to stick his now ridiculously larget feet in those baby prints.

Hi there, Handsome.

There's nothing quite like the view from Daddy's shoulders.
 

Camden wears this float-suit to the pool. We call it his muscle suit. He loves the thing and would wear it every day if I'd let him. And I love that he looks like a little superhero in it.