Christmas comes and goes,
And by early January,
Like a gift things start to unwrap,
A special present just for me,
Which I treasure like a diamond,
Is him calling to me ma ma ma mum.
His smiley face,
Feeling every bit the pride as I do.
I reply in hushed toned chitchat,
To which his story continues with woof, bubba.
A humble expansion to his speech repertoire,
Yet as monumental in this circumstance as breaking out in fluent french.
Isaac’s intellect while not in question,
Requires constant facilitation to unlock,
Like all aspects of his being,
Redirect the messages down alternate pathways,
To find there way out in action,
To open the ability to express,
And direct himself with purpose.
His sign language opens up a door for him,
Melding to it like a duck to water.
His vocabulary building encouragingly day by day,
He signs more, Gran, finished, biscuit, hear/listen/noisy, love, orange, stop, dad, help.
So empowering for him,
So enriching for us.
Driving his motivation,
His bright little face,
Eager to absorb the world,
And be part of every minute.
The power to be understood,
And to understand.
Social creatures by nature,
Social creatures by anatomical design,
We require interaction with others,
At the very core of our cellular being.
And through the very spark in his eyes,
As he links name to spoken word,
And a want into key word sign,
I’m almost positive I see the very firing of neural connections.
And I’m tantilised by the prospect of a life ahead of us,
Where mother and son communicate,
And share thoughts, joys and fears of this world.