Chapter 6 - THE SPEECH EVALUATION
Robert did take Noah to one speech evaluation.
He told no one.
The speech-language pathologist found:
age-appropriate understanding,
mild expressive-language delay,
difficulty finding words when distressed,
and some social-communication concerns worth monitoring.
No grand diagnosis.
No label.
She recommended weekly therapy for three months.
Robert asked:
“Will this make him stop tantrums?”
She answered:
“Better communication can reduce frustration.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The therapist looked at him.
“Tantrums at four are behavior. We need to understand what function they’re serving.”
Robert hated that word too.
Function.
As if crying had a reason.
He wanted behavior to be a choice because choices could be punished.
Reasons required patience.
The speech therapist used a simple exercise with Robert.
She placed three picture cards on the table:
LOUD.
WAIT.
HELP.
“These are not excuses,” she said.
“They’re tools.”
Robert looked skeptical.
“What if he just says help every time he doesn’t want to do something?”
“Then we teach him what help means.”
“What if he abuses it?”
“He’s four.”
Robert almost argued.
Then stopped.
He had spent months expecting a preschooler to manipulate systems like an adult.
That expectation had made every need look suspicious.
Noah’s first occupational-therapy screening did not produce a dramatic diagnosis either.
He showed sensitivity to certain sounds and textures.
He also loved:
swings,
heavy blankets,
pushing laundry baskets,
and climbing.
The therapist explained that sensory preferences are not moral facts.
Robert asked:
“So what am I supposed to do when the vacuum makes him scream?”
“Warn him.”
“That’s it?”
“Warn him, give him headphones, let him move away, and still vacuum.”
Robert frowned.
May you like
Again the same lesson.
Accommodation did not mean the household stopped functioning.
