Do It Anyway

February 7, 2017February 7, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Quotes, Speech Language Pathology, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: Bravery, Courage, encouragement, Inspirational, Persevere, Practice makes perfect, Social Phobia, speech therapy, speech-language-pathology, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say 4 Comments

He has stage fright. The real deal.

Social phobia with all the trimmings.

Speaking in front of anyone renders him paralyzed with irrational but no less numbing terror.

Talking to a store clerk makes him sweat.

Let alone giving a speech in front of assembly.

The whole school. Faculty, too.

He trembles at the thought.

“You don’t have to do this.” His mother. She is distressed by his distress. Protective.

“But I do,” he says.

He’s scared.

Determined, too.

He asks me to teach him how “to speak even when my throat gets stuck.”

We work on it. On breath, on visualizing, on rhythm and on parsing and on tone and pitch and breath again. He practices. With me, at the mirror, with family, with a good friend.

He knows the words by heart. He wrote them. A speech about things that oh-so-matter and are so very needing-to-be-said.

“The words come into my dreams,” he tells me. “Is that weird?”

I shrug. I don’t think so. “What do you think?”

He smiles shyly. “I think they want me not to be afraid. The words. Like we are friends now, words and me.”

The day comes.

He calls me in the evening.

“I threw up twice and I trembled like crazy,” he says, but his voice is giddy. “Then I thought about the words. My words … like friends. The beads on the necklace like we practiced … and I could breathe … I was still scared but I did it anyway!”

I Know You!

February 4, 2017February 4, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Quotes, Speech Language Pathology, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: Birthday Parties, Funny, Movies, Nanny McPhee, Preschoolers, Recognition, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say, Things Moms Say, Too-much-Pizza 2 Comments

As told to me by Mom-of-Three-Under-Six:

“So there we were, on our way to what feels to me like the 100th birthday party of the school year, and possibly the real cause for childhood obesity driven by absolute overload of pizza, cupcakes, sweets and other junk food … (I’m almost — almost — considering serving celery sticks, kale-chips, and wheatgrass juice in my son’s upcoming birthday. What stops me is knowing he’ll need about a decade in therapy to deal with the untimely exodus of little feet and the almost guaranteed desert of future RSVPs to his parties …).

In any event, there we were, cranky baby squirmy in the carrier and the hand of a squirmy already-hyper-on-the-thought-of-sugar preschooler slipping in and out of mine. When we finally arrive, the door is opened by the somewhat stooped and Old-Country dressed grandma (or great-great-grand …) of the birthday boy.

My boy takes one look at her and announces, full lungs: ‘I know you! You are Nanny McPhee!!’

…

I think I need about a decade of therapy.”

nanny-mcphee

For The Daily Post

Ten Day!

January 25, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Speech Language Pathology, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: Birthdays, children, Excitement, Growing up, parenting, Party!, Ten, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say 1 Comment

Photo: Etsy

She’s turning ten TODAY!

No more single digits. A two-number age from now till the foreseeable horizon of life.

She’s excited.

She is giddy.

She is a tad hesitant about transferring into a group that possibly puts her in the same category with ‘old people’ like her Momma and Papa, or me, or even — gasp — her Nana, whom she loves but is oh-boy-so-very-old …

She is turning ten TODAY.

A birthday like none prior. No turning back now that she takes the one-way step into two-digit life.

She’s shiny-eyed.

Happy with a chance of maybe.

Her mother is a little teary. “She’s growing up. I’m glad and I am sad …”

She’s turning ten TODAY.

A cake with two handfuls of candles. A dinner of her choice. A celebration. A row of little gifts. Perhaps one for every year.

She’s pleased.

She’s shy.

She is a little frightened.

“What if I don’t like being older?”

I smile at her sweet honesty.

Her mother sighs. “… Welcome to the club.”

All Packed

January 23, 2017January 23, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: children, Hugs-to-go, Independence, Packing List, parenting, Preschoolers, Problem Solving, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say, Writing 3 Comments

beyondtherack.com cupcake backpack

She packed a snack, Baby Bear, her rainbow blanket. She stashed a book and some crayons, last week’s (slightly stained and missing a corner but still meaningful) drawing of butterflies and “maybe aliens.”

She added a half-eaten cookie, a seashell, a necklace (you just never known when you might need one). She tried to squeeze in her pillow but it “won’t go.”

She put her shoes on (wrong feet, still fit).

She zipped the bag and pulled her hat on. Splayed the coat on the floor, pushed her arms into the sleeves, and flipped the whole thing over her head just as she’d learned. The coat slid on but tugged the hat off as it went, sending it to lodge someplace between her shoulder blades.

She paused in apprehension, then shrugged, jumped in place … ‘birthed’ the hat from under the hem and victoriously repositioned it on her head.

She nodded in satisfaction, reached for her bag and hoisted a strap over one shoulder. Squirmed and wriggled to get the other arm through the second strap.

“There.” She breathed. She looked around.

Frowned.

Being ready was nice but actually leaving was less enticing. All those hours at preschool before she got to see Mommy again.

Her shoulders slumped. So did the bag. Her lip quivered.

A moment passed. She brightened.

“Mommy!” she called. “Can you pack me a hug?”

For The Daily Post

“I tried and I tried”

January 22, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Professional Development, Reflections, Speech Language Pathology, Things Kids Say, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: children, Determination, Disabilities, inspiration, Persistance, speech therapy, speech-language-pathology, Success, Tenacity, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say, Writing 2 Comments

Everything is harder for this little one.

Her body doesn’t quite know how to calm itself. Her hands don’t always know the extent of their reach. She trips. She falls. She bumps into. She upsets the cup, the plate, the markers on the desk. It takes her longer to climb up a flight of stairs. She needs help tackling them going down. Her mouth doesn’t quite make sounds as easily as others’ can: words come out jumbled, not always the right sounds or meaning, often in a mismatched grammar and word order. Food gets messy. Swallowing’s tricky. She gags. She coughs.

But she tries.

Oh, boy, she tries.

And tries.

She’s a perfectionist, too.

Indomitable.

Determination personified.

Everything requires repetition. Still she tries again. Again. Again. She shakes her head at any suggestion she accept the unperfected.

“I do more time,” she insists, sometimes in tears but with no less conviction.

And she does. ‘More time’ and time again and then again and then some.

And slowly, sometimes out of the mist of helpless frustration and gritted teeth and hugs and endless patience — she succeeds.

A circle that closes. A list of items in a category. An idea expressed. A multisyllabic word with no sounds missing. A full sentence with all words in attendance. A coat pulled on without assistance. A triangle traced. A tower of blocks. A pattern of beads. A banana that peels without the insides getting mashed. A sip of apple juice from an unaided cup, no spill, no cough.

“I tried and I tried,” she beams. Each time anew. Sometimes with tears still glistening from the last attempt that didn’t quite get up to her own standards. Each time there’s fire in her eyes.

“I told you I can!”

Indeed you had.

Indeed you can.

Hats off, little one.

Every. Single. Time.

drseuss-determination

For The Daily Post

“I can, but I can!”

January 13, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: Capable, Excuses, parenting, Putting Kids to Sleep, Routines, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say, Toddlers 7 Comments

“I can, but I can!”

His small face ablaze

Part conviction, part plan.

He can go to the park on his own (in the rain, in the dark).

He can tie his laces (with shoes on wrong feet and socks turned around …).

He can eat three big slices of pizza (before finishing one).

He can drive the car (“the real one, with the key!”).

He can take a bath on his own (“Mommy help me get in …”).

He can dress himself (two legs in one pant, head wedged in a sleeve).

He can use a phone (especially “Delete” …).

And he certainly can, he is sure

Stay awake

All night long.

He’s not sleepy.

He won’t even be tired

Tomorrow.

Or ever.

Till he is “really big.”

He can stay up.

And not sleep.

Even as eyes flutter closed … and he yawns and he yawns and he ….

makingmotherhoodmatter-com

For The Daily Prompt

Can Someday be Today?

January 12, 2017January 12, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Life and love, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: children, Delayed Gratification, Funny, parenting, Patience, Someday, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say 5 Comments

dressup

“Can we go to the candy store?”

“Not today. Maybe another day.”

“Can we go to the park?”

“Later, Sweetie. It is raining now.”

Fidget, fidget, scan the room.

“Can I have a phone?”

“Maybe one day.”

“Can we go to Disney Land?”

“Maybe someday.”

Sigh.

Another one.

“Can someday be today?”

For The Daily Post

Daily Prompt: Someday

Shine

January 9, 2017January 9, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: grandparents, Joy, parenting, Relationships, Shine, speech therapy, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say 1 Comment

From Etsy

She looked at me with sparkles in her eyes: “My Granny’s coming tomorrow!”

I smiled.

“We going to have so much fun!” Her eyes shone. “Granny is my favorite grandma ever forever!”

“You’re excited she’s coming,” I stated.

The child gave me the “that’s-the-understatement-of-the-year-look.”

The mom and I exchanged glances and laughed.

“Can you imagine her as a teenager?” the mom noted, chuckled. “She’s practicing the eye-roll already …”

The little girl transferred “the look” to her mom, but only half-heartedly. They were both of them quite giddy with the prospect of the visit. The grandma lives out of the country but the bond is evident. I often hear tales of simultaneous cookie-baking on both sides of the Atlantic, bedtime stories on FaceTime, and daily checking-ins. Now Granny will manifest in real life, and Mom’s eyes–an only child herself–were just as shiny as her daughter’s.

“She going to stay in my room,” the four-year-old danced on her feet, shoes alight with strobes and glitter. “I have the best comfy bed for her …” she lowered her voice in exaggerated gossip-conspiration, “because she old … but …” she glanced at her mother, maybe aware of the weight of possibility or maybe remembering the source of the added information, maybe both, “…she not dying yet. She just a little bit very old.”

For The Daily Post: Shine

You going to have to wait…

September 30, 2016September 30, 2016Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Speech Language Pathology, Things Kids Say Tags: challanging situations, children, Compromise, parenting, Patience, Speech and Language Therapy, speech-language-pathology, stubbornness, Things Kids Say 2 Comments

: photo: pinterest.com/pin/339810734368459869/

She didn’t want to wait.

She wanted a treat NOW. Not later. Not after she finished her work. Not after session. Not after dinner.

No waiting.

NOW!

She was NOT going to move, or sit, or come, or go, or climb the stairs, or listen, or ANYTHING until she got her treat.

Which she wanted NOW.

No waiting.

Making her wait was “mean.” It was “not fair” and “not nice.”

She wasn’t having any of it.

None of her mom’s cajoling. None of her mom’s reasoning. None of her mom’s threats of consequence or punishment or loss of playdate or no TV or no iPad or no … something … unless …

I heard them argue. They were still at the bottom of the stairs. Two frustrated voices. Volume rising.

I could visualize the little girl. Arms crossed and foot stamping and lips pursed out in a pout, jaw forward in clear dismay and stubborn determination. I’d seen her do the ‘you’re not gonna make me’ before.

“Upstairs!” The mom ordered, fed up. “Now!”

“You not waiting EITHER,” the child accused, sounding vindicated. “You say go upstairs NOW. I saying go to the store NOW. I want my treat NOW!”

“Don’t be cheeky!” Mom’s voice went up an octave.

“YOU not be cheeky!”

This was devolving. I walked downstairs toward them.

Red faces, one large, one smaller, looked up at me. One in exasperation, one in challenge and a touch of “yeah … so what are you gonna do about it?”

I smiled. “Seems like I’m the one whose waiting…”

The child frowned. This didn’t quite fit her script.

“I’m not going!” she huffed.

“She won’t come up,” the mom accused.

“I want a treat NOW!” the little one dug her heels.

“Oh boy,” I lowered myself onto one of the stairs. “Mind if I sit down? Seems like you’re a little stuck. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“She won’t get me my treat/She won’t cooperate” They spoke together.

“Are you hungry?” I asked the girl.

She regarded me suspiciously. She knew me well enough .

I raised an eyebrow in question.

“Yeah!” she raised her chin accusingly. “And mommy said we can go to the store and get a treat and now she say go up NOW. I’m not!”

“Hmm …”

“There was lots of traffic,” the mom’s chin was only slightly less raised… “I told her if there’s a lot of traffic we may not have time to stop at the store.” She turned to the girl, “maybe next time you get your stuff faster so we won’t leave so late …”

The child’s face grew angrier. Couldn’t totally blame her … this was a bit low …

“Traffic can be tough in the city,” I intervened. “We can think together about some better planning for next time but now … we have a hungry child and no snack. Good thing I have some snacks upstairs. Shall we?” I got up and offered a hand to the child, eyed the mother meaningfully.

She understood. Stayed silent.

The child narrowed her eyes at me. “What treats you have?”

Bargaining. We’re making progress.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to check upstairs. Let’s go see.”

Eyes still narrow. “What if I don’t like them?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.” (I get really boring when I’m not going to say much more…)

“But I still get a treat after.” This was demand, not query.

“This is between mommy and you, but for now, lets get something into your belly so it isn’t hungry.” I moved my arm closer and she took it. We began climbing, mom trailing a few steps behind.

“Na’ama says I can still have my treat later,” the child swiveled her head back and declared to her mother. A little victoriously.

“This is between you and mommy,” I repeated, not quite able to keep the amusement out of my voice.

“Mommy promised me a treat,” she insisted, but her legs were still climbing so I knew she was only half-combative now, making conversation.

“Yes, you told me. Too bad there was so much traffic.”

“Yeah …”

“I don’t like traffic much.”

“Me too,” she sighed.

“Me three…” Mom piped up from behind.

The child stopped, turned, giggled. “That’s not how you say it!”

“I guess Na’ama will have to help me say things better?” Mom smiled back.

“Yeah!” she liked that. She climbed energetically up a few more stairs. “But …,” she paused again. “You going to have to wait …”