Well, I Guess For The Squirrel, It Really Was A Cane In The Butt.

Sometimes I do not very smart things,  like make appointments for Owen at 8:30 in the morning.  A 45 minute drive away, towards the city.

Which means I've got to get myself and both kids up and out the door by 7am  (we usually get out of bed around 7am)  so as to give ample time to sit in traffic.

The coffee pot shitting the bed and pouring its contents all over the counter at 6:15 did not bode well for my morning.

Nor did Owen dunking my brand new, open, Bare Minerals in a full sink of water.

But out the door we go, at exactly 7:08am.

And Owen does his usual anxiety reducing self talk therapy all the way there;

"Just the Hear It Game Sweetie.  Not get the gunk (ear wax) out.  Nope.  Not the doctor Sweetie.  Not hurt.  Just play the Hear It Game.  Like the Hear It Game right sweetie?  Not get the gunk out right Mom?"

"No buddy.  (For the 527th time this morning)  Not get the gunk out.  Just the Hear It Game".

And just as I had predicted, we hit traffic, completely stopped;  about 7 feet from our exit.

Which brings us to our appointment a full half hour early.  Which gives Owen a full half hour to convince himself that I'd lied to him and he was really going to get the gunk out.

"Where doctor?  Right or Left?  Don't see doctor yet.  Where is she?"

"No doctor.  Just the Hear It Game."  On repeat another 527 times while he crawls all over me, sucking his bottom lip as he does when he's freaking out, and rubbing my boobs, which he just does all the time.  It is very wrong, I know.

I myself am sporting a mild anxiety attack as this would be the first time I'd brought Bea to a hearing test. I wouldn't be able to sit in the room with Owen this time. He'd be on his own behind the glass in the sound proof room.

Another first?  Video of a hearing test.

He is obviously relieved that he is in fact going to be playing the Hear It Game.  

As I was relieved that Bea kept so quiet while the audiologist did her thing.



He gets words wrong;  he signs 'popcorn' when she says 'hot dog'.

He gets words wrong all the time;

The other morning, a few minutes after I'd declared Olive (horrid dog) a "Pain my my butt", I heard Owen telling Bea:

"You're being a cane in my butt!"

Also not surprised to learn that his loss has gotten a wee bit worse.  She noticed a dip at around 4000 hertz.  A pretty high frequency, higher than Bea's squeaky cartoon voice. 

So, I will have to find a way to break it to Owen that he will never be a piano tuner, a sound effects editor, an air traffic controller,  nor will he ever converse with dolphins.  So sad.

By the time we get back on the road, the world is safely tucked away in jobs or classrooms, and we get to Owen's school in quick time.

Owen bounds toward the stairs, excited to show me his room.

On the stairs, a tall, wavy black-with-sexy-dash-of-white haired, big blue eyed, navy shirt and nicely filled out Dockers wearing gentleman greets Owen.  In sign.

Mr. L.L. Bean model introduces himself as Owen's ASL interpreter.

I manage to not fall down stairs as he makes small talk with Owen.  In sign.

I let out a pathetic my baby's all grown up yelp when Owen arrives at his LOCKER and throws in his backpack and jacket.  I didn't know he had a locker.

I tell his teacher about the test.  She is not surprised.  Or concerned.

L.L. Bean model interprets my words to Deaf aide and students.

I make mental note to inquire about the need for a classroom volunteer.

And I drag a reluctant Bea out of room, she is worried about her friend Jack.  He is in Owen's class, but he's sad this day, because the doctor hurt his tail.  Because today, like most days, Jack is a Deaf squirrel.

I reassure Bea that Jack will be just fine, and promise her yes, we'll come back some day and peek at him through the window.

*******

So Sherri is doing this Wednesday Windows thing.   With the video through a window, and peeking at Deaf squirrels (and hawt interpreters) through a window, I thought I'd link on up.