Puppy, Love

We settled on Bosco for a name, and we love it.  It seems fitting for a feisty little pup like him, and is such a strong and manly name, it almost gives the illusion that Mr. Smith got the St. Bernard he always dreamed of, rather than this hypoallergenic ball of energy.

Puppies are exhausting!  I almost can't keep it straight, who I have in my arms, the toddler, the infant or the puppy!  And trust me, there's always someone in my arms.

One of the reasons (among many) that we wanted to bring a dog into our home, was for Isaac.  I know I said I'm going to write about his speech progress, and I will, but we've seen that dogs are good for him when he's been around my sister's puppies lately.  So far it's been fruitful.  He says dog, good boy, c'mon, and even attempted his name a few times.  But when it came out "Bobo" the other boys made him self-conscious by fawning over the cuteness of it.  He's sticking with "Dog" now.

And on that topic, I have to record here Isaac's latest, and my favorite of all, speech accomplishment.  Yesterday morning, as I carried him around the kitchen gathering items for his breakfast, I told him I love him for the first of a thousand times in the day.  He leaned into me and said something back that sounded an awful lot like "I love you too".  With Isaac, you can't make a big deal out of it.  He's a stubborn little thing, and if he thinks you want him to do something, that's the best reason he can find not to do it.  I kept quiet about it and didn't hear it again yesterday.

Then this morning, same time, same place, same routine, I said it again and listened closely.  This is what I heard:  "Wa bo dew".  In a sweet voice, with a sweet smile, and love in his eyes.

Sometimes grace comes in very small packages.

First Words

Dear Mr. Smith,

I was wrong.

When I took Isaac for his first speech therapy session, and came home saying it didn't go well.

When I said Miss E. looked like she was 15, that she wasn't going to be able to get through to him, and I wished we had been assigned another therapist.

I was wrong.

When I told you that we should cancel, and start pursuing other options of treatment for him. When I said that he wasn't ready for this, that it wasn't going to work, he wasn't going to make any progress with this method.

I was so wrong.

When he comes to me now, making the sign for "more", and his little lips form the word, and force his sweet, husky voice out, and he holds out his cup, and the word "more" spills out at me in a rush of joyful progress.... I can hardly stand it. And I realize how wrong I was.

Thank God for nudges from the Holy Spirit, prompts that push us past our rushes to judgement.

Thank God for progress and hope, and guidance when we are wrong.

Love,
Mrs. Smith