Poo.

And other similar monosyllabics. That I wish my daughter was saying.

In other words, Rori had her 18 month check up today, and it was noted that her language skills are delayed. *sigh* Which I sort of knew. She OUGHT to be using a few words. And she isn't, really. Or not that you can really make out clearly.

So, it's off to see the audiologist (not the problem), and then probably Early On.

I HOPE it's just that she lives with Anneliese, and maybe can't distinguish Boo-chatter from actual language. Not sure what I'll do if I end up with TWO PDD-NOS kids on my hands. One is hard enough.

Though it must be noted that Rori IS walking, and seems much more socially and motor-developed in general than Anneliese was at the same age.

Glurb.

And did I mention....

The new vet we hired to help on Saturdays has been rescheduled at her other job, and is now only available 1 Saturday in January.

12th Night is likely a wash, though we'll see.

I really wish that MY feelings, wants, and desires meant something to somebody around me. But clearly not.

So go ahead, say whatever you like to me, stick me with a few more hours at work, drop major problems in my lap and go blithely on your way. Everybody else does.

*grumble, trudge, grumble, trudge*

D.C. and a major relocation is looking good, in comparison.

*snarl*

I have a headache. Where did John put that bottle of oak-aged hard cider he bought me.

*mumble, whine*