“Charlotte… Charlotte…” After several failed attempts at getting the two-year-old’s attention, Mother called to her husband.
“Will you do something about Charlotte? She’s eating dirt again.”
Father looked up from his book and took a swig of his beer. He had been enjoying the last hour of daylight while his wife prepared dinner. Older Sister was relaxing too. The six-year-old was slumped in her folding chair, still covered in thin yellow silks from helping her dad to husk the five ears of Jersey corn that were now cooking over the campfire in a pot of boiling water.
“Charlotte!” Father said, not quite yelling. But the dirt-covered toddler did not look up. She never did.
The couple was worried. All the warning signs were there that their daughter could be different. As an infant, Charlotte had been prone to ear infections caused by excessive fluid in her middle ear. Without intervention, the doctors said, these infections could lead to hearing loss.
So they intervened and inserted tympanostomy tubes to help open Charlotte’s ears. The infections had stopped. But the couple still had reason to worry. Because eating dirt was the least of their problems. Their daughter still wasn’t talking. No, “Mamma.” No, “Daddy.” No, “Up.” No, “No.” Unresponsive and mute is not a good look at nearly twenty-four months.
“Charlotte!” Father said one more time, before walking over and scooping his daughter into his arms.
“Just sit her over there,” Mother said, pointing to the picnic table. “Dinner is ready.”
Father carefully positioned Charlotte in her highchair, passing her arms through the straps before securing the center clasp. Then he turned to help his wife transport the trays of steaming corn and charred hotdogs to the table.
Charlotte started twisting in her seat, struggling with the straps of her highchair. The couple didn’t notice. They walked back to the table together, unified in their parental concerns.
But Charlotte didn’t notice them either. She was focused on her mission, still trying to break free.
Older Sister joined the table and they started to eat. Then, with authority and conviction, Charlotte said her first words, “Let me out. I’m stuck.”