Breakthrough weekend: this is what's encouraging Max to talk

It started Saturday morning. The bathroom on our ground floor was on the verge of being condemned by the Department of Health, and since it's not a self-cleaning kind and Dave is not a self-cleaning husband, something needed to be done. "Mommy's going to vacuum the bathroom," I told Max. He flashed me a huge grin. Then he pointed to the vacuum and to the bathroom. It took me a second. "They rhyme!" I said. "Bathroom and vacuum!"

"EEE-YAH!" said Max. ("YEAH!")

A couple months ago, he'd recognized that my sister's name, Judy, rhymed with doodie (her childhood nickname) but we haven't heard rhyming since. For the next half hour, though, Max and I walked all around the house, him carrying a purple wand that he used to point to stuff and we made rhymes. Sometimes, he'd say the word and I'd add a rhyme; sometimes, he'd do it. Window and Play-doh! Floor and door! Brown and down! Truck and duck! Bus and us! Bed and red! It was totally amusing him and simultaneously cracking me up and amazing me. Most of the time, the words weren't intelligible, but he was trying so hard.

The speech therapist came over for her 11 a.m. appointment and was totally impressed. Phoneme awareness—recognizing the different units of sounds that distinguish words—is the root of reading and very key for speech. Sabrina went through this stage, too, about a year ago. Now it's Max's turn.

Max and I did the rhyming thing in car trips, too: Sky and hi! Blue and new! Tree and me! Snow and go! Snow and NO!

There's one basic truth I've learned about speech therapy or anything therapy: it works best for kids when it's fun. And rhyming is most definitely fun, if addictive.

"Dave!" I said as he heated up dinner tonight.

"What, hon?" he asked.

"Dave! Wave! Save! Rave! Brave! Enclave!" I said, gleefully.

Max totally cracked up.

This is all pretty awesome.