Several members of the congregation immediately stepped in. So I was totally taken aback when Babyboy’s yell of joy, at discovering a new truck on the playroom, was met with a round of scolding by the Senile Old Lady: “Shut Up! Stop Screaming!” She stood and yelled at him, her hands on her hips. Generally, kids run wild during that time, playing with the toys in the playroom, or running outside in the church yard. We’ve had many great conversations there, and I’ve made some good friends. After Mass was over, we have an informal pot-luck Coffee Hour, which is a great time to get to know the congregation. I really didn’t feel like enduring her criticism.
She is, after all, a member of the congregation, and I didn’t want to offend her again. I kept Babyboy in the basement playroom for much of Mass. We missed about a month of Mass, due to illness, travel, and on-call. I was a bit shocked, and glad she didn’t say it to me, because my response would have been… largely unprintable. Last month, she said something to my husband about “Why don’t you duct-tape his mouth shut?” Now, when he shared that with me, he chuckled and described it as a harmless comment offered in humor by this basically Senile old lady. Now, as accepting of kids as 99% of the congregation is, there is one older woman who has scolded Babyboy for his noise during service. Now, we are happily entrenched and ensconced in the wonderfully mixed-up mix of the congregation. I loved it, and I dragged my more-traditionally-raised Hubby there.
There was also a large playroom in the basement, and Godly Play for kids (Like Sunday School) during the year, during Mass. But most importantly, there were children, many children, and they were welcomed and celebrated: squeals, giggles, tantrums, and all. It was small it was ethnically diverse it was all-inclusive of ages, sexual preferences, and politics. I found this friendly little Episcopal franchise when I was pregnant with Babyboy. Now, we are spiritual folks, and we love our wacky left-wing liberal Christian Church. I wasn’t that perturbed about Noise Police Lady because I didn’t know her. I considered my options: I could say what I wanted to say, which is largely unprintable I could explain that I knew exactly what he wanted, that he was sad that his daddy walked away and he couldn’t talk to tell us that Or I could simply gather up our things and relocate, which I did. “Use your words, so Mommy knows what you want!” She said again, looking at me this time, her look concerned, annoyed, and pitying a look that was really saying, Shut your kid up. He howled again, even louder, and rushed to me. She directed her scolding at Babyboy: “Use your words, honey, use your words!” You could almost hear what he was saying: “WHERE”S DADDY GOING? I’M SURROUNDED BY STRANGE KIDS AND ADULTS AND DADDY IS LEAVING ME?” An older woman came up to us with her arms crossed. When Hubby walked away from us to go use the restroom, Babyboy let out a long, urgent, scared squeal. Yet we had a run-in with the self-appointed noise police. There was certainly no need for any child to use an indoor voice, and no need for any parent to restrain their child from shouting at the top of their lungs. It was a gorgeous sunny day there was a vast expanse of rolling fields and a large playground next to a sandy beach there were families and kids out by the dozens. Yesterday we took Babyboy to a seaside park. People look at us funny when that happens, like we’re abusing him or something. He screamed some on the trip to Central America, in the airport, and on the plane. He has screamed in stores, especially if I walk too far away from him, and he gets scared. We don’t take our kids to too many places, for this reason, mainly. This can sometimes be difficult, especially in public. Meantime we endure grunting, pointing and screaming for every communication. They’re coming this week to deliver their assessment, which we assume will include Speech Therapy… They came, they saw, and then they took 3 weeks to call us back. Our pediatrician recently urged us to contact Early Intervention and set up an assessment. He fetches, he throws things in the trash, he follows three-step commands.īut he won’t say a word. If you say “ice cream” out loud anywhere within a 50yard radius of his little ears, he will come running. He makes eye contact, sometimes getting endearingly in our faces and touching noses, giggling.
When I coax him to say something, especially a word he once said, he shakes his head NO, or puts his hands over his ears.
So we get alot of grunting, pointing and screaming when Babyboy wants something, or when he’s unhappy about something. The words dried up, and we’re still waiting for them to come back. Last fall, Babyboy had a little reliable vocabulary– Done, Hot, Down, Melon. I say won’t instead of can’t because he could and now he doesn’t.
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