My life was all about checklists and schedules - milestones and percentiles. It was all o-k-a-y but I was in a whirlwind and kind of not loving it so much. I was easily overwhelmed and overrun by my clever little darlings. *insert sarcasm* I was impressed at how easily they could manipulate me. I wasn't entirely duped but I had to stay on my toes. I had no time to pay attention to behaviors that would soon be so obvious. I had nothing to measure by. As far as I knew, things were fine.
We became part of a playgroup. I felt refreshed after every visit each week. The support from the Moms was wonderful. The advice, not always so much. I learned of "Mister Spoon" in playgroup and thought I would give it a try. Sean was my "defiant one" so I brought out "Mister Spoon" one day, (a long wooden spoon meant only to be used for cooking and breaking in half with bare hands) and went to town on his bottom. I soon realized, after missing - said bottom - and hitting my leg that "Mister Spoon" would have to go "bye-bye". I couldn't believe that Sean continued to act out with the threat of "Mister Spoon". Looking back, I will have to say that it didn't appear to phase him and it hurt like a mother! *insert apology*
I couldn't help but wonder if Sean was beginning to disappear then. I really don't know when it started but I think he was slipping away as early as one year old. It would be a couple of years yet before I would completely lose him to autism. *insert angry words*
Meanwhile, one night after babysitting, Aunt Merry Ann sat me down to talk about Savannah. Sean was one and she was almost three. Aunt Merry Ann was gentle and informative. Her years of experience as a Kindergarten teacher gave her credence. She explained which of her behaviors were autistic-like. She helped me understand that they were not typical. That was my introduction to echolalia. Savannah was well beyond the normal parroting that infants do. She was about to be three. The only echo I heard right then was the pounding of my heart. *insert sadness*
echolalia
[ek′ōlā′lyə]
Etymology: Gk, echo + lalein, to babble
1 (in psychiatry) the automatic and meaningless repetition of another's words or phrases, especially as seen in schizophrenia. A kind of echolalia is delayed echolalia.
2 (in pediatrics) a baby's imitation or repetition of sounds or words produced by others. It occurs normally in early childhood development. Also called echophrasia, echo speech. echolalic, adj.
Mosby's Medical Dictionary, 8th edition. © 2009, Elsevier.
