In the last couple days, the neighborhood kids discovered that we have the "coolest basement ever!" That's their description, not mine. This means that we've had the neighborhood children constantly in our house or backyard or all the children playing in the cul de sac.
That also means that today alone I had conversations with two different children regarding Teddy. The 9-year-old boy asked me if Teddy was learning to talk yet. My response was he didn't have words yet, but that he has his own ways to let us know what he wants. I gave the example of Teddy coming by us meaning he wants to play with us and be included ... and then the conversation ended as I chased Teddy in the opposite direction.
Then the 6-year-old girl was swinging on our tire swing with Teddy. She told me she has a lazy boy in her class who's just like Teddy. I asked if that boy talked, and she said he didn't talk at all. She said she didn't know why he didn't talk. I explained that some things were easy for some people and hard for other people. I said we're all good at different things and said Teddy's really good at climbing.
It's interesting to hear their perceptions and their questions, and I try my best to answer honestly but positively because Teddy does have so many strengths. And I know adults have the same questions ... two of our adult neighbors have asked in the last month or so if Teddy will ever learn to talk. My response the first time was, "That's hard to say ..." and followed that up with a more detailed explanation that some of the children with his diagnosis use communication devices, a few words and some signs.
The reality is it is hard to say because I believe Teddy will never have the full range of communication that I would love for him to have. As a communication major, newspaper editor and someone who finds great comfort and clarity in writing, I have a child who fits the label of non-verbal currently. I have no doubt he will continue to find ways to express himself, but I'll never know all that roams through that mind of his. He's 4 ... and I've never heard Teddy speak the words "I love you." Don't get me wrong, I've seen Teddy say I love you. He says it with his smile, the way he lights up when there's that connection and the (often painful) dive into you. But part of me still wants to hear those words.
And as much as I want to hear those words, I want to be able to understand him. I want to know what he knows. I want him to have a voice to express himself.
Until then, I'll do my best to interpret and speak for Teddy. And AJ will continue to speak for Teddy using his "Teddy voice."
The footnote I have to add, as I sit here in tears, is remembering what happened when Teddy and I were in the neighbor's driveway as the kids played together in the cul de sac. The little girl who turns 5 next week awkwardly was trying to ride our Ziggle while pulling a tricycle behind her. I chuckled at the sight, and her dad asked what she was doing. Her response, "I'm bringing Teddy his tricycle." Although the children often get caught up in their play and forget to wait, include or allow Teddy to play with them, she very intentionally dragged a tricycle all the way over to include Teddy.
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