the language gap

Every time I'm around my friends' typically developing 2 and 3 year olds (typicals), I go through a three-step process. First, I am simply astonished that they can answer my questions about things like what they did yesterday or what exactly they are doing with that toy teaset. Second, I tell myself that these kids must be so advanced, that being professor's children must give them a leg up on language learning. And third, I have that moment of heartbreak when I realize that it is not this kid who is far ahead, but my own kid who is so far behind. Martin (who is five) cannot reliably tell you what he did yesterday. Every once in a while he can let you into his world of imaginary play with a sentence like, "The toy ducks are going to the ocean."

Because Martin is my oldest child and Sasha is only just learning how to say a few words (she's 14 months), I have no idea what it would be like to raise a child who can talk to you. I have no idea what it would be like to take a kid trick-or-treating without cue cards. I have no sense for what my days would be like if it would be easier for Martin to tell me when he's hungry and thirsty.

Some philosophers say that our experience of the world is organized, understood, made possible even, by language. (If you're a Wittengenstein specialist, stop reading right now because I'll probably get some of this wrong.) That's why we don't have memories from our earliest childhood - because we didn't have language. We begin to have memories when we have enough language to hold onto them. I wonder if Martin will remember anything about being three, four, even five. What would it be like to be unable to remember parts of your life that everyone else seems to have at least fleeting memories of?