Anyone who has done any research on 5p- Syndrome knows that people with 5p- are going to have issues with their speech.
Some of this research even says that afflicted people will be non-verbal. Period. As in, this syndrome takes away any and all ability to speak.
Parents of children with 5p- in this day and age will tell you that the research isn’t true. Some of our children can and do speak very well.
My daughter is one of those lucky kids who has found her voice and uses it often.
Just this morning when I was putting her shoes on her (almost always a production) she shrieked, “Too tight!!!”
I sighed and took the shoe off and loosened the laces before stuffing her foot back in.
But you know what? Instead of sighing at her, I should have thrown Olivia a damned party. My child, the one who isn’t supposed to be able to speak, at least according to research that is probably 40 years old, can tell me when something is uncomfortable. She can tell me when she is sick, what hurts, if something is bothering her.
She can tell me about her day at school, a time when I am not with her.
I worry so much about Olivia and the possibility of mistreatment. It is so easy for less than ethical people to victimize children like mine, children who often can’t tell anyone that someone is hurting them. But Olivia can tell, she can tell me if something is wrong, if something is happening that hurts her or makes her uncomfortable.
I know how lucky we are that this is the case. I am so grateful for this.
I can’t imagine not hearing her voice, not knowing every single though that goes through that beautiful brain of hers.
So even when we’re rushed in the mornings, trying to get everything done before the bus arrived, I want to take a moment and bask in the sound of her beautiful voice, her words, her thoughts, even if she is shrieking at me that her shoe is too tight or that I’m ‘killing’ her as I brush the tangles from her hair or even that the shirt I picked for her to wear is too boring.
How amazing is it that this morning she asked me why I’d picked out a boring shirt instead of a tunic? I didn’t even know she knew the word tunic. She probably heard it from someone at school and used context to figure out the meaning. But however she worked it out, this morning she used the word properly as she scolded me for not picking out a tunic and instead picking a boring shirt that ended at her hips instead of skimming over them.
She’s always listening, always learning, always taking in the happenings of her world. She’s always putting her own spin on what she’s seeing, hearing, learning and then she puts back into the world for the rest of us to appreciate her brilliance and wonder at her awesomeness.