Some of the best, most informative, conversations I’ve ever had have been with my daughter. Not only is she full to bursting with facts, all of which I can guarantee you’ve not heard before, she is also very excited about everything and everyone which makes chatting with her a heck of a boost for your happy cells. The only thing that makes me happier is watching someone she’s just met, someone who doesn’t know, try a conversation with The Boom, it can be a bumpy ride for some.
I say can but I mean could. These conversations, thanks or not to her speech therapist, are fewer and farther between nowadays. Many strangers can understand her now which is probably a good thing albeit a bit dull.
Anyhoo. This brings me to a recent conversation about birthday presents.
“Boom, what would you like for your birthday?”
“I don’t know?”
“Oh, I have one!”
Thank goodness for that.
“I would like a rainbow light up cat”
“Right. Have you seen one of these rainbow light up cats anywhere Boom?”
” . . . . . . . Oh, no I haven’t. They’re not out yet are they? It won’t be here for my birthday will it?”
“No, probably not, sorry”
“I know what you can make in London”
“Oh, What’s that?”
London? Who was asking about London?
“Candles. Candles and buttons”
“Wow! I like candles and buttons” say I trying really really hard to join the conversation.
“Me too” she said and rolled off her bed onto the floor with a bump.
With that she was gone.
London? Candles? Buttons?
Later that day I was wandering about a field with the dog when it hit me. The children had a Tudor day at school, she’d gone in dressed as Boom Boleyn, they’d been to a Tudor doctor and made lavender filled pouches to cover the pong of Tudor England but, more importantly, they’d made candles and buttons.
The Boom hadn’t got an auditory processing disorder or whatever else it was the school had been pondering on. No, the Boom was bored of my conversation about birthday presents so had moved on to something far more interesting, her mind had wandered onto pastures new. The Boom is me but smaller.
In reception the children take in pictures of their family and their house and pets etc. to help them settle in and to give teacher something to nosey at. The Boom had been asked questions about the photos and had answered with utterly random replies not even slightly pertaining to said photo. Teacher had taken me to one side, concerned at the workings of my tiny child’s mind. At the time I knew, I knew that when they showed her a photo Boom didn’t see the person in it, she saw the place at which it had been taken, she saw the memory of what we’d been up to on the day it had been taken, her mind had wandered to the more interesting.
Why on Earth would she talk about her mum in a photo when earlier that day we’d been to the beach and eaten chips in a wind blown tent? Why would she chat about her house when, just before that picture had been taken she’d been trapped in a sand pit? Why, for the love of biscuits, would she talk about the things you could plainly see when she has better things to talk about? Why, when asked, would she talk about school when she’d once eaten a blue cake? Why would she chat to my friend Mer when she could ask Mer if she was in fact her own daughter? It was clear to all of us there that Mer was not her daughter but her daughter is more interesting than the Mer herself. Looking back on it this was a fair question which was given a fair answer.
“No, I’m not Alexa, she’s at home watching a bit of tele in her PJs” replied my dearest friend without so much as a titter.
It’s taken almost 7 years but I get it. The Boom is not hard of hearing, she’s hasn’t got “something wrong up there” as her teacher once wrongly predicted whilst tapping at her head for full effect. No, she just has better things to think about.
The Boom has been ignoring us all for years, she been busy dancing to the beat of her own drum. My greatest wish is that she continues to do so for many more years to come.