Children with special needs and speech: "That stinks!" says Max

"I think he's going to have speech. He'll sound like a deaf person." That's Max's neurologist talking, about six years ago. I'd asked if he thought Max would ever be able to talk; at that point, Max had very few sounds and no words.

The doctor's prediction came true: Max's speech does sound like that of a person who is hearing impaired, somewhat slow and slurred, although it's typically less intelligible. Except for the word "no." Of course that would be the one word he has mastered. He likes to use it a lot.

At times, when it's just Max and me without the iPad between us, it can get frustrating to not understand what he's saying. Lately, Max has been trying to talk more and more. Everyone's noticed it: his speech therapists, family, friends. Way back when he first got a communication device (a Dynavox), I was concerned it would make him less motivated to articulate words, but that hasn't been the case. Max has plenty of things he wants to voice to the world.

His favorite things to say lately: "I'm Ur-ul Ah-eh-hee Ax!" ("I'm Purple Spaghetti Max!") and "Ax eyes ah-eh-hee!" ("Max likes spaghetti!"). Lately, the spaghetti obsession is rivaling his purple one; the other night, we went out to a Japanese place for dinner and I brought spaghetti with me in a container. "Sorry, pretty much all he eats is spaghetti," I said to the waitress, who smiled and seemed to understand. "Ah-eh-hee!" Max said to her, happily. I teased him about ordering spaghetti sushi. Yum.

Every once in a while, though, Max says things completely clearly, and I'm suddenly filled with hope that his speech will get sharper.

I was in his room this morning. The Diaper Champ we have is a veritable antique at this point, we need to get a new one.

"That stinks!" I said as I emptied it.

"That stinks!" said Max.

I grinned. Max cracked up, very pleased with himself.

"That stinks!" are two really beautiful words.

If Max had more words, what would he say?

I was on a crowded train today and there was a little boy, about three years old, riding with his mom. An elderly gent struck up a conversation with him. Suddenly the kid said to the guy, "You have a big nose."

Everyone on our side of the car cracked up. It is not a usual occurrence to have a car packed with New York City subway riders congenially laughing together; typically, it's just one cuckoo guy cackling to himself as everyone avoids eye contact with him.

"Well, I never knew that about my nose!" the guy said, totally amused, and everyone laughed again.

As I stood there, I started wondering what sort of crazy stuff Max might say if words could easily flow from his mouth. This is not to say Max doesn't communicate in his own way; he most definitely, and gloriously, does. Through words he says, some very clear and some garbled, though I understand him; through signing; through his Dynavox communication device (he has phrases on it; someday, he'll form sentences).

It was just one of those reveries you sometimes have as the parent of a kid with special needs, wondering what another version of your child might be like. They're not sad musings. They're just...musings.

This is what I could hear Max saying:

"Mom, please get me only purple clothing from now on. Including underwear."

"Can we live on the Disney boat? Please?"

"I would like only purple dishes, too. Also, I don't think it would cost a lot of money to paint the house purple, you can use what's in my piggy bank. You can use what's in Sabrina's piggy bank, but maybe don't mention it to her."

"These ugly braces on my feet are cramping my style. Doesn't Prada make DAFOs?"

"Of course I am completely capable of doing the potty thing. I choose not to get fully toilet trained because, well, skip it. It's an existential thing and you wouldn't really understand."

"MOOOOOOOOM! I KNOW YOU ARE SNEAKING OMEGA-3 OIL INTO MY FOOD AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE!"

"Sabrina, if you don't stop chanting 'Max likes GREEN! Max likes GREEN!' in that snotty voice, I am not going to do fake-burp contests with you ever again. And by the way, I can burp so much better than you! But not better than Daddy."

"If we can't go on the Disney boat, can we just go on an airplane ride to someplace today?"

"Hey! How much does it cost to buy an airplane, anyway? Could it fit in our backyard?"

"Mom, I know you killed the ladybugs we were trying to breed. I forgive you but please, let us handle the next batch."

"I think it's OK to eat chocolate ice-cream for breakfast. It has calcium!"

"Suck it, Sabrina."

"OT and PT and speech therapy are fun and all, but how about we go out and get ourselves some cold brews?"