No Surprises Here
I had big plans to update these last few posts with photos, but the day got away from me. A speech therapy team came to visit the baby this afternoon. They evaluated him for a few hours with bags upon bags of developmental toys. At the end, they said he tested above average in cognitive ability but below average in speech, and said we qualified for state-funded speech therapy.
The four-year-old came home from preschool with a stack of drawings: me in a cast, him holding a bouquet of flowers. We spent the evening taping them to the headboard of the bed.
For dinner, we had a Tater-Tot casserole that one of my coworkers prepared.
I watched about 20 minutes of “Get Out,” and read the first 20 pages of The Triggering Town by Richard Hugo, and skimmed two dozen headlines about the sexual misconduct of rich and powerful men. And I wondered why any woman in her right mind could feel a shred of surprise. But maybe that’s just the Percocet talking.