Normal. I guess it must be a bad word to some parents, but it was music to my ears today at Pippa’s speech therapy evaluation.

We’ve been on a waiting list since her three-year check-up when she confidently pointed to a square on the floor and said, “Look, Mommy, a ‘ga’!”. The pediatrician had been trying to get her to come out of her shell and talk a little to decide if she should be evaluated, and that word sealed the deal. Last Thursday, after six months of waiting, we finally got a call that they had a slot for her today if we still wanted it.

My concerns about her speech were nothing compared to what they were when she was 17 months old, not saying mama, and using her ubiquitous ‘ga’ to mean about 5 different words (clearly it’s still a favorite); but I was still just concerned enough to go through with the evaluation.

Pippa loved the whole process. Miss Nora (who was wonderful) had her say words from picture cards (she didn’t know the word vacuum. I was mortified) and describe what was happening in various pictures. They did funny things with their tongues together in a mirror and role-played with a little teddy bear. I watched her make a little note every time Pippa made one of her little shortcuts, and I braced myself for the worst. Then she gave Pippa some toys to play with and turned her attention to me.

She asked me what my concerns were about her speech and I told her. Then Miss Nora pulled out a little flow chart of what sounds children are expected to be able to make by certain ages. She had a very concerned look on her face, and I was sure I was about to get the news that she would need therapy three times a week (can you even imagine? With all my little ones???). Then she explained that while Pippa does still say t for tr and d for gr, that this “consonant cluster reduction” is considered normal until about age five, and she is easily pronouncing all the letters that a 3 1/2-year-old should be able to say. She continued to explain in the same sad sort of voice that insurance won’t cover therapy unless she’s failing to meet these milestones for her age, but that she understands how hard it is for good parents to hear their children not speaking as clearly as their peers.

Me: You mean she’s fine?

Miss Nora: Yes, she’s fine.

Me: She’s normal and doesn’t need speech therapy?

Miss Nora: Yes, perfectly normal.

Me: Oh, that’s wonderful news, thank you! (I could’ve hugged her after two and a half years of worrying about Pippa’s speech, but instead I was a perfect model of self-restraint.)

Miss Nora: Oh, you’re happy about that? It’s a tough sell with some parents. Well… good. It was nice to meet you, Pippa. Have a nice day!

(Then when we got out in the hall.)

Me: Pippa, isn’t that good news? Miss Nora said you talk very well, and we don’t need to come back to practice with her.

Pippa: But I want to come back and play some more.

Me: (Oops, didn’t see that one coming.) I’m sorry sweetie, but she needs to help kids that can’t talk as well as you.

Pippa: Okay. Do I get a lollipop?

Me: (Man, poor kid would’ve done better if she hadn’t talked so well.) No, honey, I’m sorry, not today. But we’ll get a snack to take home and have with Grandmom.

She was happy enough with that solution, and I was very happy indeed with the news that her speech is just fine for her age. (Who are these parents that are not happy to hear this news? What am I missing?) As for people being able to understand her, I guess we’re back to ‘ga’ one on that front.