We meet a doctor and a psychologist at BNK (Pediatric and neuropsychiatric clinic) to investigate whether Abbe has any autistic or AHDH symptoms. This is one of the bigger clouds on my Abbe sky. I’m hoping.
So today, it was time for a test. Abbe sat down on a chair, at the psychologist’s desk. I know. It sounds utterly mad. Can you really sit down an eighteen-month-old child at a desk, like you would an adult about to be examined? Answer: Yes.
I was mighty surprised. He sat completely still on a Tripp Trapp-chair and did everything he was asked to do.
The psychologist made him play with various things, he stacked them, sorted them, put the right shape in the right hole and the correct colour in the correct box and so on. But when he got to the listening comprehension test, it all got slightly bizarre. This psychologist had a very broad southern accent. One of those I can hardly understand – me being from Gothenburg.
In front of Abbe were a lot things and he was asked to pick the things she asked for.
– Abbee, wherrrezz the choirrr?? Puzzled, Abbe looked at her.
– Wherrrezz the toiiiblle? Abbe looked at us, still confused.
Chair and table are words Abbe knows. We know that, from home. The psychologist tries a bit of anatomy instead. That’s the standard play back home “Where’s dad’s nose?” and “Where’s Abbe’s ear?” and so on. This will be a piece of cake, I think to myself.
– Oiii keiyyyy, Abbee. Wherrrezz yerrr earrrr? Abbe is now trying to make eye contact with us, “help me out here”.
– Wherrrezz yerrr oyye, Abbeee? Abbe looks helplessly at us. "Eh?"
I wonder what the outcome of all this will be? “The patient shows great difficulty comprehending speech”. We’ll see. I found it hard not to explain to him, in Swedish. He knows this. But I kept away from the test. And I managed to keep from laughing. But it wasn’t easy.