Can he hear me now?

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For the past month or so, Megan and I have had several conversations regarding Bubby's speech. Sometimes it seems he has a vast vocabulary; other times it seems he's regressing in his ability to pronounce words.

Bubby's preschool teacher casually mentioned to Megan that she might consider speech therapy for Bubby. When I heard that, I suggested that the first thing she should do is have his hearing checked. When Andrea was young, she had speech problems, all related to too many ear infections and an ignorant doctor who refused to put tubes in her ears, despite my insistence. (She eventually got the tubes as well as speech therapy and is now a masterful speaker.)

During my recent visit to the desert, it became clear that the fears and worries about Bubby's ability to talk appear to be unfounded. Bubby talks up a storm, all the time, about all things. He did, though, have a tendency -- especially at dinner time -- to interrupt the adult conversation with "What you say, Dad?" or "What you say, Mom?" Megan said she thinks it's more his way of having things explained to him that he didn't understand than it is a hearing problem. I agreed with her.

So other than needing work on a few vocabulary skills such as blends and digraphs -- for which I suggested activities from lessons that are part of the tutoring program I follow as a tutoring site coordinator -- Bubby's speech and hearing seem to be a non-issue.

At least it was until last Friday.

Megan called me Friday evening and said in a very serious tone, "You won't believe what your grandson has done." Of course, I imagined all kinds of deadly or dastardly deeds and feared for the physical and psychological well-being of my grandson.

The story from Megan was that she had come home from work Friday afternoon, bid goodbye to GiGi -- Bubby's paternal great-grandma who babysits him on Fridays -- then went about her usual afternoon activities. Bubby, though, was acting rather unusual. Again and again he asked Megan, "What you say?" and kept saying "What? I can't hear you" and "Turn it up, Mommy, I can't hear it" regarding his television programs.

His insistence led Megan to inspect the little guy's ears, where she found what appeared to be excess wax build-up in one ear.

So she and Preston proceeded to remove the wax. All the while Bubby insisted "It's a seed." Megan explained to him that, no, it's not a seed, it's ear wax and Daddy's gonna get it out.

Daddy skillfully removed the gunk. Only it wasn't gunk, it was indeed, as Bubby tried to convince them, a seed. A popcorn kernel, to be exact.

Instead of telling Mommy, "See, I told you it was a seed," as I imagine Megan herself would have said as a kid, Bubby simply announced of his now clear-as-a-bell audio ability, "I can hear!"

Funny thing is, Megan said she can't recall the last time they had popcorn!

Bubby later told Mommy he found kernels under the couch and proceeded to put one in his mouth and one in his ear. Why in the world he would stick a popcorn kernel in his ear is beyond any of us.

The real question, though, is how long has the darn thing been in there?

Even more so, how did all of us who have bathed Bubby in the last month -- or hugged or kissed or played with him -- miss seeing a popcorn kernel in the little dickens' ear?!

Today's question:

Because of Bubby's silliness, the song "Beans in Your Ears" ("My mommy said not to put beans in my ears ... I can't hear the teacher with beans in my ears ...") has been stuck in my head for days now. What wacky childhood song or nursery rhyme do you find gets frustratingly stuck in your head now and again?

A crystal ball widget in my future?

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On my browser home page, I have lots of little widgets: some serious, some fun, some newsy, some not really worth anything at all.

One that usually fits the "fun" category is my horoscope, placed near the bottom of the page since I don't often pay it much attention.

This is what it said yesterday:

CANCER by Rick Levine

It's easier for you to talk about what you're capable of doing today than to actually follow through and get concrete results. Accordingly, it may be smarter to spend the day engaging in meetings, phone calls and emails, rather than pushing your agenda forward by executing your plans. Figure out the best way to reach your goals and prepare to make your move.

Good thing I read it after I finished my most recent picture book manuscript and after I sent it off to my agent. If I had read it before, I'm pretty darn sure the manuscript wouldn't have been completed yesterday nor the e-mail sent.

Not that I follow the advice of my horoscope by any means, but I do regularly follow any excuse to procrastinate. And that would have been a good one.

Guess it's proof I should mentally move the horoscope widget from the "fun" category to "not really worth anything at all."

I think a crystal ball widget might be more useful at this point anyway -- to tell me if my recently completed manuscript will be THE one.

Wish me luck!

Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons

Today's question:

What's your take on daily horoscopes?

Hungry heart

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I mentioned earlier this week Bubby's momentary thrill upon hearing his tummy growl. "Did you hear that, Gramma?" he said to me. "The baby in my tummy went RAAAAR!" Such a sweet sound of confusion coming from my grandson who thought there was a baby in his tummy, not realizing he was just hungry.

Bubby's empty stomach was a source of amusement, not pain. Other than crying as an infant when he was hungry or simply stating "I want something," as he often does now when he wants to snack, I think it was the first time Bubby was aware of his stomach growling.

I distinctly recall the first time I knew what it felt like to be so hungry it hurt. It was the early '70s and my family was packed in the station wagon, driving from Minnesota to Florida. We were on our way to Disneyworld, the one and only time all seven kids and both parents went on a true family vacation. Across several state lines. To a place every kid dreams of going. Just like normal families do.

My dad was -- still is -- a "drive straight through" kind of traveler. So with all seven of us kids making the most of the limited space allotted each, our pale green station wagon with seating for nine ticked off the miles. "Delta Dawn" and "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia" played on the AM radio, and visions of Mickey Mouse, Haunted Mansion and Cinderella's castle danced in our heads as we headed south, paying no heed to the national gas shortage.

Restaurant stops were few and far between, due equally to the desire to knock out miles as well as my parents dreading the logistics of seating nine -- and paying for nine -- in a dining establishment. At one point, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, I recall waking from having dozed off in the backseat. My arm on which I'd slept was drenched in drool, my stomach clenched and uncomfortable. When I complained about the sensation and voiced worries that I was going to throw up, my sister snarled that it's nothing, that I was just hungry, to be quiet.

So I was quiet. And waited. And marveled that this, my aching gut, was what all those hungry kids in Africa must feel and why they'd be happy to have the food my siblings and I often picked at instead of eating.

Eventually a restaurant appeared on the horizon and all was soon right with the world in general and my growling stomach in particular.

I was blessed to not know true hunger, to not feel such pangs and worse on a regular basis. I was fortunate that the discomfort of not having enough food was so rare that I can recall one specific incident, not a childhood marked by it. I was lucky that the lack of food was due to traveling -- going to Disneyworld, for heaven's sake -- not poverty.

The same goes for Bubby. He's fortunate that the only reason the baby in his tummy "raaaared" was because he had refused to eat what he'd been given for lunch. A lunch that included many options from which to choose, many morsels to fill his tiny tummy. He had made a conscious choice to not partake.

Not all children are as lucky as Bubby is. Or I was. Not all children giggle at the noises from their tummies; many cry as their tummies gurgle and groan.

Thoughts of those gurgles and groans make my heart hurt.

Today's question:

With the holidays -- and requests for holiday donations -- bearing down upon us, what charities do you typically help out this time of year?

Grilled Grandma/Hump Day Free-For-All

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Grandmas share a deep, dark secret, one most of us don't like to admit to, one we hope others never learn. We're a little ashamed of it, but we can't help ourselves. This week's Grilled Grandma, Laura, has no qualms about admitting it, though.

What might that secret be? As Laura reveals in her grilling: "I'm not very good at sharing."

Now, Laura's not talking about sharing shoes or dessert or driving duty on long road trips. No, she's talking about sharing her grandchild ... with the "other grandma."

I'm willing to bet my briefs that's the case with most grandmas. It's certainly the case with me, and I applaud Laura for admitting out loud something I struggle with in secret. (Well, sort of in secret. I'm not that great at keeping such things secret, I've been told.)

I applaud Laura for lots of other reasons, too. She's a brave and interesting woman and you'll learn much about her in Grilled Grandma: Laura. But there's far more to her than what she lets on in her replies to my questions, so be sure to visit her blog -- which she's been writing for about SIX YEARS now -- to get the full story on Laura. It's a good one! You'll find the link to her blog at the bottom of her grilling.

As I've done the past few Wednesdays, today is yet another Hump Day Free-For-All when it comes to comments. What that means is you can let loose on anything that's on your mind. And today, the day after Election Day, you just might have lots on your mind, lots to let loose. Maybe? Let's hear it!

Today's question:

What's on your mind today -- good, bad, happy, sad, snarky, sweet or silly?