Sunday, February 14, 2010

Silence is golden...and just as rare

Have you ever heard the expression 'running the gamut' meaning from one extreme to the other? Let me illustrate:
Last Friday we took Dakota to his first "grown up" concert. We went to see Joan Jett because as Dakota told us MANY times during the show, he "loves rock n' roll". We had to drive for two hours to get to the concert which is almost in Kansas; in fact with a good tail wind you could spit across the border (judging by the crowd I believe many of the concert goers count this among their list of pass times). Dakota was a golden child for this trip; he watched a movie and uttered only five words the whole way. He was enthralled by the show, waving his arms and singing out "ch, ch, ch, ch cherry bomb" right along with the rest of the audience. I am happy to say that's the only behavior he mimicked from the so called adults around us. Sometimes Dakota's immature development and distractibility are a good thing- especially when it keeps me from explaining what the people behind us were doing, which I am still not sure is even legal let alone physically possible.
The trip back was just as smooth- Dakota finished his movie, was totally silent and fell asleep about 30 minutes from home. Contrast this with the 20 minute drive to grandma's house today...
If the child took a breath from the time the car door shut until we arrived at grandma's house and I ran screaming from the vehicle, I missed it. It could only have been during the brief time when I tried to stuff my head in the glove box or it was drowned out by the sound of the electric window going up and down on my throat.
It started innocently enough with Dakota saying "Mom can I tell you the funniest thing ever?"- thus began the record breaking longest run-on sentence in the history of history or sentences. The only thing more fascinating than watching 17 back to back episodes of a silent cartoon is having a child describe the details of every failed attempt by the coyote to catch the 'hun-runner' (as Dakota calls it). He must tell you every one of them because it is not the same story line every time with a new Acme product so don't try to tell him you know what happens. His story/stories were occasionally punctuated with a repeat of "Can I tell you the funniest thing ever" until I finally told him he could only say one more because he had already told me the funniest thing ever four times; to which he replied, without hesitation, that he had only told me three times. All of a sudden the kid can count with lightening speed and track a conversation with pinpoint accuracy.
Don't get me wrong, this is wonderful progress for Dakota. Being able to watch a show and then relate back to you not only what he saw but the story and it's progression is a great advance. It is very much like a "normal" 7 or 8 year olds stories. And as soon as my eye stops twitching and the doctor releases me, I'm going to be thrilled.

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