My baby brother was born in 91 and when he eventually got into kindergarten one of his teachers flagged him for his speech impediment. He’d pronounce his P’s as B’s.
He was 5 and talked a mile a minute before he was two. He just couldn’t quite get the hang of that one part.
My parents weren’t worried. We were all helping him. My other brother and I were 6 years older than him and we we’re latchkey kids by the time I was 10.
My parents worked second/third jobs and second/third shifts rotating to make everything work for us. We barely saw them both at the same time.
I remember my Ma, and even Pops, being pissed as fuck and our chores and cleaning day was ramped up for a month or two, and all us kids had individual therapy sessions where they grilled us with questions we didn’t understand because the school call CPS on them because they wouldn’t (read: couldn’t) make after school speech therapy work with their schedules and they knew he’d learn on his own eventually anyway. They just made my parents lives that much more stressful in that time.
This was over 30 years ago now and I have my own kids, and bonus kids even! I have my own stories I could tell but this is the absolute worst because I saw how much it stressed out my overworked parents. My brother is a functioning member of society who got over his slight speech impediment within the year, with our help but mostly letting him develop on his own time.
Meanwhile, us kids just considered it a matter of course that we wrap up plates and Tupperware after each meal. One plate for Gertie our nextdoor neighbor and whatever was left went to Jorge’s family two doors down. We also learned how to mow the lawn only so the Grandma and Grandpa Hass, our other next door neighbors wouldn’t have to anymore. They weren’t actual family but they were to us. Jorge’s family got all my and my brothers’ hand-me-down clothes for his younger siblings, too. We didn’t quite understand why at the time. It’s just what you do. But yeah, make a struggling family’s life that much harder with your performative concern.
This is a little different but it sticks out.
My baby brother was born in 91 and when he eventually got into kindergarten one of his teachers flagged him for his speech impediment. He’d pronounce his P’s as B’s.
He was 5 and talked a mile a minute before he was two. He just couldn’t quite get the hang of that one part.
My parents weren’t worried. We were all helping him. My other brother and I were 6 years older than him and we we’re latchkey kids by the time I was 10.
My parents worked second/third jobs and second/third shifts rotating to make everything work for us. We barely saw them both at the same time.
I remember my Ma, and even Pops, being pissed as fuck and our chores and cleaning day was ramped up for a month or two, and all us kids had individual therapy sessions where they grilled us with questions we didn’t understand because the school call CPS on them because they wouldn’t (read: couldn’t) make after school speech therapy work with their schedules and they knew he’d learn on his own eventually anyway. They just made my parents lives that much more stressful in that time.
This was over 30 years ago now and I have my own kids, and bonus kids even! I have my own stories I could tell but this is the absolute worst because I saw how much it stressed out my overworked parents. My brother is a functioning member of society who got over his slight speech impediment within the year, with our help but mostly letting him develop on his own time.
Meanwhile, us kids just considered it a matter of course that we wrap up plates and Tupperware after each meal. One plate for Gertie our nextdoor neighbor and whatever was left went to Jorge’s family two doors down. We also learned how to mow the lawn only so the Grandma and Grandpa Hass, our other next door neighbors wouldn’t have to anymore. They weren’t actual family but they were to us. Jorge’s family got all my and my brothers’ hand-me-down clothes for his younger siblings, too. We didn’t quite understand why at the time. It’s just what you do. But yeah, make a struggling family’s life that much harder with your performative concern.