climb every mountain

I don't get to accompany Martin to speech therapy very often. Last school year, his tutor took him. This school year has been crazier. My husband and I have swapped off taking him on Thursday afternoons.

When Martin was first evaluated by his speech therapist - over 2 years ago - his speech was so limited that she could not even test him. She tried to evaluate him with a benchmark test for 3-year-olds and could not get him to respond to any parts of it. Those were some of our many days filled with bad test scores. IQ - 60. Fine motor skills - 2 years behind. Etc.

Martin loves to go to speech. We sign in at the front counter and he waits there for the therapist, refusing to take a seat like everyone else. The receptionists always ask him how it's going and what he's doing. "I'm waiting for Miss Beth," he replies. When he sees her, he runs down the hall and into the therapy room. I wait outside, although I can watch through a glass wall and listen with earbuds.

Yesterday, Miss Beth was trying to get Martin to recount a storybook in his own words. He did pretty well. She also tried to get him to describe objects on a card, which was harder because he simply wanted to name the object. Finally, she wanted him to draw something he did that day. She drew a picture of herself eating spaghetti as an example. Martin drew a picture of himself on a mountain and swimming in the ocean. We live in Ohio, so you decide whether not that picture was accurate.

Back in the day, Martin used to scream during speech therapy. He refused to take direction. It took months of repeated effort to help him realize that the activities could be fun. And now he's telling stories. And like Lake Wobegon, they might be true or not true. The point is, though, that he's willing to tell us something. I'm still getting used to the fact that Martin can sometimes tell me the things on his mind.