Speech is really only one part of Ian's problems. The other problem is that he constantly thinks that the world is going to end.
Sometimes the world is going to end, because Ian is confronted with a weird smell, an out of tune singing voice (mine), or a bright light. Ian experiences the world at a much higher frequency than most people. Things that might be a little irritating to you or me are REALLY irritating to Ian. And he panics. Like a wild horse, he balks when he is confronted by these senses. He might hold his ears and scream. Or he might run really fast. Or he might go into fetal position and whimper.
Every fall, he has to make the transition from shorts to long pants and you would think that I was sticking him with a hot poker. He has to be calmed, stroked, bribed, threatened, and then maybe, just maybe, you'll get him to pull them up his legs. He'll cry, "I'M GOING TO DIE."
The world may also come to an end, because Ian likes things a certain way. Cereal must be eaten in a particular bowl every morning. If he eats Cheerios, he must have three strawberries to go in the bowl. The box must be positioned right in front of the bowl of cereal. If any of the rules are not followed, Ian will cry, "I'M GOING TO DIE."
A movie must be turned off ONLY after all the credits have COMPLETELY finished rolling across the screen. Not before.
Because he took his homework to speech therapy last week, he wanted to take it to speech therapy last night, too. We forgot his spelling book on the kitchen table, and he wanted me to drive back home and get it. 30 minutes there and 30 minutes back. Um, nope. Tears rolled down his face in the waiting room. Oh well.
Actually, Ian has come a long way. The worst of the WORLD IS GOING TO END years was when he was five or six. Now, we can pretty much roll our eyes at him, call him "Johnny Drama," and tell him to get over it. Except for the pants. And the spelling homework. And the movie credits.