My day at work
Aug. 23rd, 2004 09:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpHe smiles at me, cautiously, over the head of the rubber Tazmanian Devil puppet that he greedily ripped from my hand. I place my fingers around the head of the puppet firmly. He tries to slip it over his miniature hand. "That's /my/ monster," I say to him, highlighting the words with sign, a flat hand against my chest. "Mine." I snatch it back amongst protest.
"Do you want a turn?" I ask him, meeting his big brown eyes with my blue ones. "Tell me," I coach. He's dubious; I continue. "Say, 'My turn.'" "My 'urn," he mumbles, hands already quick and at the ready. I offer what he covets. He slides his thin, brown arm into the warm rubber before I have a chance to praise him. The goods are their own reward, I suppose.
It is the first time he ever willingly speaks to me at my request. He is two years old and dreadfully unstimulated. Within the hour he will flood my ears with words to label, to name, to demand. Ice cream truck. Flashlight. Hat. Monster. Ouch. Please. My turn. Move your foot. I ask if she has books for him, if he likes to read. She says he keeps bringing her the same book. Because she can't find any others.
I plan a trip to the local library. I ask her if she'd like to sign up for a library card. His mind is desperate for substance. Television can only go so far. He is two years old. His mind is full of words simply waiting to be born.
"Do you want a turn?" I ask him, meeting his big brown eyes with my blue ones. "Tell me," I coach. He's dubious; I continue. "Say, 'My turn.'" "My 'urn," he mumbles, hands already quick and at the ready. I offer what he covets. He slides his thin, brown arm into the warm rubber before I have a chance to praise him. The goods are their own reward, I suppose.
It is the first time he ever willingly speaks to me at my request. He is two years old and dreadfully unstimulated. Within the hour he will flood my ears with words to label, to name, to demand. Ice cream truck. Flashlight. Hat. Monster. Ouch. Please. My turn. Move your foot. I ask if she has books for him, if he likes to read. She says he keeps bringing her the same book. Because she can't find any others.
I plan a trip to the local library. I ask her if she'd like to sign up for a library card. His mind is desperate for substance. Television can only go so far. He is two years old. His mind is full of words simply waiting to be born.
