Speechless in St. Catharines

Nanny (Diane's mother) with Philip at 15 months

As an infant, Philip appeared to be progressing nicely. He ooh'd and aah'd and giggled and smiled and pee'd and pooped like any normal baby (Diane had chosen to nurse...so father and son were both happy!). At around 12 months we began to notice his uniqueness...he wasn't walking...he wasn't talking...was playful enough...but it was obvious something was amiss.

One night Diane heard him cough - just once - and her maternal instincts kicked in. She ran upstairs and found Philip completely blue and convulsing. When she picked him up out of his crib a large mucus plug discharged from his throat. She immediately began mouth-to-mouth and continued to do so during the 20 minute ride to the St. Catharines General Hospital. Once in emergency, the doctors took over and had Philip breathing, pink and cooing in no time at all. However, it turned another page for us as the barrage of tests that ensued to address his convulsions and seizures began. The seizures continued for years...we nicknamed him 'thumper' at one point...but the meds he was given and continues to take to this day, brought that concern under control. It was a wakeup call for us that we had a very 'special' little boy on our hands. We watched him like a hawk after that incident.

At 18 months he finally took his first steps which delighted parents and grandparents alike. But he still wouldn't/couldn't talk. All we got were grunts and groans and lots of pointing. We quickly learned to interpret his gestures and attempts at communicating, but also realized something had to be done. So we enrolled in a Hanen Early Childhood Education Program where we were taught how to communicate with Philip. We were to take movies throughout the day (I took a few throughout the night...tsk, tsk), to show the Hanen Counselors Philip, mom and dad under 'normal' conditions...in their home environment. Twelve weeks of intense instruction, interaction, revelation, frustration...the result? It was determined that Philip was mentally delayed in certain areas, such as speech, and that he would eventually catch up.

He did...and by kindergarten he was talking a blue streak (his Newfie roots had kicked in)...not always discernible... not necessarily coherent...but he was talking. And we were ecstatic! Today's a different story...still hard to understand at times...BUT HE NEVER SHUTS UP! (hey...we're not complaining...hmmm...who are we kidding...yes we are!)

WRESTLE-MANIAC!

One of the unfortunate obsessions that Diane and I have to deal with each week is Philip's ritualistic observance of, and complete enthrallment with, WWE (formerly WWF...which is wrestling for those of you not in the know...and have been fortunate enough to have escaped its pathetic lure!). Every Friday night and every Monday night he MUST eat his dinner half an hour prior to the commencement of wrestling and he MUST have a treat during the 2 hour cinematic circus (his dinner usually consists of 2 hot dogs laden with ketchup and coleslaw - don't ask -or his favourite...Pizza Pops). And of course when the girls fight, he has to immediately call Tio (his uncle Adolfo) to let him know they're on...because 'one time' Tio inadvertently showed an interest...and now must suffer the consequences of that decision 'for the rest of his life'! Matters not where he might be...at work...on the water...in Ontario...in Portugal...HE GETS THE CALL!

Philip knows every wrestler, every wrestler's signature move, every wrestler's girlfriend, every belt holder, every title. I get so impressed when the music barely starts at the introduction of the next bout and Philip knows which wrestler is about to walk out of the smoke, down the ramp and into the ring. We're not thrilled with this particular obsession of his, but for a young lad...now a young man...whose entertainment world is quite limited, we reluctantly concede. Why, now and then I'll watch some matches with Philip - especially when The Undertaker fights _ and find it quite amazing...I mean amusing...I mean dreadful! The sad thing is he believes it's all real...(it's not...is it?).

Reality can be beaten with enough imagination.