Lately, Cole has turned into a sort of radar station meets bunny ears. Especially with the windows open for the nice weather, he is constantly vigilant about "noises." He hears everything. Even the quiet. He tilts his head towards it, cups his hand around his ear and says, "what's that noise?!"
We live near a hospital so ambulances are frequent. Firetrucks. School buses. The garbage truck in the back alley. Phone messages. Birds chirping is one of his favorite. Squirrels scrambling. He can tell the difference between an airplane and helicopter. Between a freight train and the L. He listens for rain. He listens for the mail carrier. He listens for his sister to wake up in the morning. He hates the air conditioners for being too loud. He also hates the blender despite it bringing forth one of his favorite treats--smoothie.
He's like a hypersensitive little parrot who repeats back everything you don't want him to and none of what you do. Random words come right back at you in a string, only to be put away, stored until some future time when he'll pull out that word you didn't know he knew and use it.
In Leda's world, music is for dancing. In Cole's world, "moozic" is for falling sleep to or trying to figure out. He sits in his room and asks me to change the song on the stereo until he finds one he likes then he stares at the speakers intently trying to figure out the rhythm and tones. It reminds me of one of the velociraptors in Jurassic Park trying to figure out how to open the door. You watch his brain and half expect smoke to come out from the work it's doing.
We live near a hospital so ambulances are frequent. Firetrucks. School buses. The garbage truck in the back alley. Phone messages. Birds chirping is one of his favorite. Squirrels scrambling. He can tell the difference between an airplane and helicopter. Between a freight train and the L. He listens for rain. He listens for the mail carrier. He listens for his sister to wake up in the morning. He hates the air conditioners for being too loud. He also hates the blender despite it bringing forth one of his favorite treats--smoothie.
He's like a hypersensitive little parrot who repeats back everything you don't want him to and none of what you do. Random words come right back at you in a string, only to be put away, stored until some future time when he'll pull out that word you didn't know he knew and use it.
In Leda's world, music is for dancing. In Cole's world, "moozic" is for falling sleep to or trying to figure out. He sits in his room and asks me to change the song on the stereo until he finds one he likes then he stares at the speakers intently trying to figure out the rhythm and tones. It reminds me of one of the velociraptors in Jurassic Park trying to figure out how to open the door. You watch his brain and half expect smoke to come out from the work it's doing.