When My 4-Year-Old Son With Apraxia Would Say, 'I Hate Dad'

“I hate Dad!”

I heard it over and over again from my 4-year-old son, Ben, who has childhood apraxia of speech (CAS) and developmental delays. It came out of nowhere and struck us really hard.

Ben has always preferred me (I’m his mom, of course!), but suddenly, his preference skyrocketed. I was the only one who could put him to sleep. The only one who could give him a bath. The only one who could take him to soccer. The only one who could feed him dinner. He wouldn’t go anywhere or do anything without Mom. He wouldn’t even do highly desirable things with Dad, like going out for ice cream or a trip to the park. And his demands for Mommy weren’t quiet or polite. They were big and loud and angry and forceful.

Because of his medical and developmental issues, we have a developmental pediatrician in our arsenal of special needs resources. This particular doctor was helpful in telling us that some kids like Ben can usually be more intense. I assumed other behaviors, like extreme parental attachment, might be more intense as well. I read books. I scoured the internet. I guess I was looking for consolation that it was nothing serious.

Even though I found “nothing serious” about this issue, there were serious effects on our whole family. I was drained. I had very little to give to the rest of my family. My husband felt neglected and sad. My daughter felt left out and missed her mom. The constant tension resonated in our home, and we were all on edge.

Ben has worked hard in speech therapy for three years. We have appreciated and loved every single word he worked so hard to get out of his mouth. But to hear such a negative word like “hate” as such an angry sentiment was truly heartbreaking.

Friends and family kept saying, “It’s just a phase.” That comment trivialized our real challenges for four-plus months. These “phases” can look different with our son. This phase was disconcerting. Ben couldn’t verbalize his feelings. And if you knew my partner, you would know what a fun and caring person he is and how any hatred towards him is unwarranted.

Maybe you’re thinking I shouldn’t have given in. I should have insisted that Dad do the dinners and baths and bedtime. But what I have learned painfully over time is that this kind of forceful parenting just doesn’t work with my son. There are usually decent reasons why he does what he does; he just can’t tell me because of his apraxia. I wanted to make our house as peaceful as possible, and for months, that meant I did it all.

As you might have guessed, this story has a happy ending. Two things solved this issue over time:

1. My husband: He stuck it out. He stepped into the background for a while. He kept testing the waters and tried to find things “the boys” could do together. Usually, he encountered a lot of resistance. Then he would back off and try again later. He kept at it over many months despite a lot of frustration and fatigue. I’m so grateful he didn’t give up on Ben!

2. A special intervention from one of his speech therapists: I mentioned this “hate” problem in an IEP meeting, and she suggested using a social story about Dad. She noticed Ben did well with social stories in the past. She wrote a story about how mom has to leave sometimes, but she always comes back. She even included pictures of Dad and Ben together and wrote about how they have fun and go places together and like spending time together at home. Ben read this story with me for two weeks and slowly we heard the dreaded hate word less and less. One day a few weeks later, I turned to my husband and asked, “Has he said the H-word lately?” He looked back at me incredulously, “No!” We realized our efforts finally worked.

We have gone a few months without hearing “I hate Dad.” I think the boys’ relationship has gotten stronger.

Ben knows Dad isn’t going anywhere.

Mom is always coming back.

And we are a cohesive unit again.

We also recognize that parenting our son is full of intense peaks and valleys and have come to appreciate those “wins” so much more.

Ann Weiss’s husband and son

The Mighty is asking the following: What’s one thing people might not know about your experience with disability, disease or mental illness, and what would you say to teach them? If you’d like to participate, please send a blog post to [email protected] Please include a photo for the piece, a photo of yourself and 1-2 sentence bio. Check out our Submit a Story page for more about our submission guidelines.



To the Wendy's Cashier Who Gave My Son Lunch With a Side of Hope

Dear Donna, a cashier at Wendy’s:

My 10-year-old and I stopped in for lunch today on your shift. I could see after you asked him how he was doing today that his jumbled answer might have caught you off guard. You shifted your eyes to me and then back to him as he continued… something that happens all the time in our world. So I looked down at him, and as his 24/7 speech and language coach I said, “You can say, ‘I’m good!’”

But then you caught me off guard. Instead of looking to me for his order, you asked him. He answered you. You leaned in and said, “I think you said you want a cup of water… is that right?” He nodded. “Aren’t you getting anything to eat?! What else?” After he excitedly spit out a string of jargon you asked him to slow down and try again. So he did. “Fries,” he said unclearly. “What size?” you asked. “Medium.” “Great… anything else?” You looked in my direction. I shook my head as my son clearly said “Nope!”

What you didn’t know as we held up the line is that my son has childhood apraxia of speech, but the name of his disorder didn’t matter to you… what mattered to you was making sure you got his order right. You didn’t “let” him be an equal patron at your restaurant… he just was. You let him be his own expert. You presumed competence. Not your version of competence — his. You allowed him the dignity of time. You asked him his name to put on the screen for his order just like everyone else and checked out to see if you said it right and even asked him if he knew how to spell it for you. So he did. Through this act I’m certain you’re not expecting a newspaper article or local talk show segment… you weren’t trying to be noticed or given kudos or to be called a hero because you took a moment and tried a little harder. You wanted a 10-year-old at your counter to order lunch, just like any other 10-year-old might on a Friday afternoon.

son at soda self serve

Advocacy and inclusion are tricky things. When it comes from a place of equality, empathy and understanding it is a wonderful thing… when it lacks authenticity it can still have its place but can also be humiliating and damaging to an already fledgling movement. By “letting” my child be prom king or shoot the last basket in the last 10 minutes in the last game of the season, by being so kind as to “be his friend,” well-meaning people are inadvertently continuing to marginalize him. No one has assumed he was worthy of the crown on his own, able to make that basket without help or that maybe he makes one heck of an awesome friend and that perhaps he is the kind one.

So you, Donna, your authentic advocacy is the kind that will change the way we as a society approach disability. Thank you for lunch with a side of hope.


His mom

Follow this journey on Running Through Water.

7 Things I Wish My Friends Knew About Raising a Child With Special Needs

Parenting is hard work for all of us. Our journey may seem different compared to yours, but isn’t everyone’s? We all share a common goal: to raise happy, kind, successful kids. So why do I feel a disconnect between us?

Our get-togethers have become brief, awkward exchanges. The relationship we’ve cultivated over the years seems to be disappearing before my very eyes.

So to you, my friends, here are a few things I wish you knew about raising a child with special needs.

1. My child’s apraxia is not a taboo subject. It’s OK to ask me questions about it. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable talking about it with me. In fact, I want you to talk about it with me. I want to be able to share this part of my life with you.

young boy at playground

2. Sometimes I just need to vent about it. It’s OK if you don’t know what to say to me. It’s OK if you don’t understand what I’m going through. You’re my friend; I just need you to listen. Be there for me and listen.

3. I’m not better suited to do this than you are. I’m not more patient or understanding than you. I do this because I have to; it isn’t a choice I made. I love my child unconditionally, like you do, and if our roles were reversed, you’d be doing the same things as me. You would not love your child any less. Please stop telling me I was singled out by God. I wasn’t.

4. I am jealous of how “normal” your life is. I know it’s not fair to you; you have your own struggle. It just feels like your struggles are easier to deal with, even if they don’t feel that way to you. I’m just envious of the idea of simplicity.

5. I do not view my son’s disability as a gift — I view my son as a gift. I believe his disability is not who he is. Given the choice, I would not choose for my child to struggle. I would choose a much easier life for him, one without pain or heartbreak.

6. I worry all the time. It consumes me. Am I doing enough? Is he getting the best treatment? I worry about school and him making friends. I worry about trying to find another play date for this weekend so he doesn’t have to spend it playing alone again. So it’s not that I don’t care about what’s going on in your life or that I don’t feel like it’s as important. It’s just hard for me to shift my focus sometimes. It’s hard for me not to worry about everything all the time.

7. I still care about you. Even though it feels like I’m always canceling our girls’ night, I truly value our friendship. It’s just hard for me to find time to go out and sometimes. I’m just too mentally exhausted. Please continue to invite me out, even if it’s just to make me feel included.

When We Asked Ronda Rousey If She Had Apraxia of Speech

It started with an intriguing title — “Ronda Rousey: The World’s Most Dangerous Woman” — and then a picture of a “James Bond”-type beauty.

Now, I normally wouldn’t click on stuff like this, but today I had a day off, the kids weren’t fighting and I thought, OK, sure. Let’s see. A beautiful “James Bond” girl is the most dangerous woman in the world? Sure. Let’s read about this.

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And then I read this:

“In her first six years, nobody knew whether she’d ever speak an intelligent sentence, such were the after effects of being born with an umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. It could be that her gibberish and mumblings were signs of brain damage. No one knew, and her parents — Ron, an aerospace-industry executive, and De Mars, an educational psychologist and statistician — moved when she was three from Riverside, California, to Jamestown, North Dakota, in part to be near the Minot State University speech therapists, who set about bringing her vocal cords to their senses. It wasn’t easy, and it took time. And it was especially frustrating for Ronda given how advanced her sisters were. ‘I’m dumb, Mom,’ she once said. ‘Maria and Jennifer have the words. I don’t have the words.’ ‘No, you’re not, you’re very smart,’ her mother told her.”

And then I was hooked. I started googling her name. I read every interview. In almost every interview she made mention of her “speech impediment.” Each time she talked about it, the more my mind thought, This is apraxia.

I threw up the question to the apraxia kids Facebook group. Yes, people had heard of her, but no, they never heard she had a speech impediment and they sure didn’t think she had apraxia.  Hmm.

Did I mention I had the day off and my kids were being good?

So I started to research some more. In one interview she said her dad called her “sleeper.” She was just waiting to bloom. In another interview she talked about wanting a Hulk Hogan Wrestling Buddy when she was 3, but she couldn’t pronounce his name. She remembers going to toy store after toy store and not being able to communicate what she wanted, until a salesman figured it out. Man, how many of us have been there? When your kid can finally tell you what they want, you would sell your house to get it. She has to have apraxia. I have to at least ask.

One problem: Ronda Rousey is incredibly famous. What could I even write that her PR people would read and then pass on to her? Could I try her FB page? Twitter? I settled on the “contact me” form on her website. I started writing to her PR people, but it emphatically turned into me writing to her. I didn’t hold out much hope, but hey, might as well put it out there. Apraxia needs a face, and what better face then this badass female! She’s smart, talented, driven, resilient… Doesn’t she sound like our kids with apraxia?

Before I closed my computer, one last thing on her website caught my eye. She wrote a book. Hmm. Maybe she writes more about her speech impediment in her book?

I saw that she was going to have a Colorado book signing on May 29, 2015.

Wait, that’s… today?! Oh my gosh. She is in Colorado! She is in Denver tonight!

Insert internal struggle.

I have to go! This is amazing. I have to ask her. I can ask her in person! Laura, are you crazy? Ashlynn (my daughter) has speech therapy and swimming tonight. You can’t go down there. Plus, are there even any tickets left?

I called the bookstore and there were tickets left, but they were almost gone. I had to buy the book to get a ticket. I was number 422 out of an allotted 500.

What did I just do? I don’t watch MMA. Just this morning I didn’t even know who Ronda Rousey was and now I have bought her book and a ticket to go to her book signing on a night we are slammed with appointments.

Yep, I was definitely going. I packed a CASANA apraxia brochure, inserted my walk poster and off we went.

Ashlynn was stoked. She loves books. She could not believe this big book was for her. She held it like a prize and she wouldn’t let me hold it.

We stood in line and people thought she was adorable. Ronda’s youngest fan. I started to get nervous. What am I doing here? I dragged my 5-year-old baby to a book signing on a mother’s intuition. Oh well. If nothing else, this woman is pretty kick-ass. She’s not famous for her good looks (even though she’s beautiful), she’s not famous for being a reality star, she’s famous for being talented and smart.


Finally it was our turn. As we got closer, her bodyguards were crabby and everyone on her team seemed tired. They were literally pushing people after their book was signed so they wouldn’t take up more time for selfies. She wasn’t personalizing books. In fact, you couldn’t even hand her your book. They handed it to her for you. Sigh. I took out my hidden apraxia brochure.

Oh well, maybe we’ll still be able to talk. Those bodyguards though. Gulp.

“Okay sweetie, your turn.”

I sent Ashlynn up to the counter by herself because I read in one interview that Ronda has a soft spot for kids who seem to have the same speech disorder she did, so she really tries to take time for them. This was no exception.

Ashlynn walked shyly up to the counter.

“What’s your name?” Ronda asked.

Ashlynn answered but she couldn’t understand so she leaned over and asked again. I only got one picture before I went over to clarify “Ashlynn.”

Ronda started signing her book. I said quickly, “Ashlynn has a neurological speech disorder like you did and we are inspired by you because you overcame that and so much more.”

Almost on auto-pilot Ronda responded, “Yep, I had to overcome a lot to get here.”

I was so nervous. I had to ask her ASAP. Luckily she took a long time to sign the book. Laura, say it!

“Did you have apraxia?”

Ronda stopped signing, looked me in the eye and said, “What did you just say?”

“Uh, uh, apraxia? Dyspraxia? Was that your speech impediment?”

She looked incredulous and repeated, “Apraxia, yes, this is what they think I had.”

I smiled. I knew it. Un-freaking believable. I looked over at the bodyguards. What the heck. I threw the CASANA brochure on the counter. They moved in, but she motioned them to stop.

I said, “This is information on apraxia. If you really did have it, will you say that in your interviews instead of speech impediment? It would mean so much to our kids who are struggling with it.”

She again looked at the brochure before looking back up at me and said, “I will. I really will.”

She seemed sincere. I instantly believed she would. I had Ashlynn give her a hug and tried to push her along (bodyguards were watching), and she said, “You know, my mom is a PhD psychologist, and she had never heard of it. She took me to the universities and many of them had never heard of it.”

“Yes!” I replied. “Yes! It’s still not well known or understood.”

She started to get really worked up now. Emotions spilled out of her. I read in an interview people think she’s so tough, but really she wears her heart on her sleeve and she was, right then, in that moment.

“They wanted to put me in a special classroom away from my friends. They thought I was stupid! But by fourth grade I was top of my class in algebra, and by high school I tested gifted.”

“Yes!” I again replied. “Yes, these are our kids.”

She looked back down at the brochure before looking up again and said, “I will. I really will.”

Ashlynn and I ran out of there. Before we left I pointed at Ronda and said, “Look, Ashlynn! She has apraxia,” and then I pointed to a line of almost 100 people who were still waiting and said, “and all these people want her autograph!”

Ashlynn smiled. We ran out into the rain laughing.

“You’re going to be famous, Ashlynn,” I said, and we laughed.

It was late by this point and we still had a 30-minute drive home. I stopped by my parents’ house to tell them the story. They couldn’t believe it!

I finally got home and ate dinner while my husband put Ashlynn to bed. I fired up my computer and just for the heck of it, I went to Ronda’s Facebook page to like it. That’s when I saw this:

She reposted the brochure I gave her! She must have done that first thing upon completing the book signing. She is one of our kids. So freaking awesome!

Even if she doesn’t do anything else, even if she doesn’t say she has apraxia, Ashlynn and I will always have that moment  that moment when we met a true fighter who overcame apraxia and so much more, just like I believe Ashlynn will.

We will always have that book confirming what I have hoped all along:

“I never would have been able to do any of those things without hope. The kind of hope I’m talking about is the belief that something good will come. That everything you’re going through and everything you’ve gone through will be worth the struggles and frustrations. The kind of hope I’m talking about is a deep belief that the world can be changed, that the impossible is possible.” – Ronda Rousey

Follow this journey on SLP Mommy of Apraxia.

The Mighty is asking its readers the following: Describe a moment you gave or received a gift that touched your life in a special way. If you’d like to participate, please send a blog post to [email protected] Please include a photo for the piece, a photo of yourself and 1-2 sentence bio. Check out our Share Your Story page for more about our submission guidelines.

boy in tye dye tshirt smiling and opening a package

Why 300 People Had a Water Balloon Fight With This Boy With Apraxia

Camden Eubank was excited to celebrate his 10th birthday on July 6, but his mom, Traci Eubank, was worried about throwing a party and having only a few people show up, according to her Facebook post.

Camden has childhood apraxia of speech (CAS), a motor speech disorder, and it’s difficult for him to make friends, his dad, Wayne Eubank told WDBJ.

But when his parents made a Facebook page announcing Camden’s water-balloon-fight party, just a week before his birthday, more than 5000 quickly liked it.

I know all kids should learn disappointment in life- but sometimes other kids are so cruel. Camden is turning 10 on...

Posted by Camden's 10th Birthday Party- An Open Invitation on Sunday, June 28, 2015

Even more buzz came from Reddit.com, a the site nicknamed the “front page of the Internet.” The Eubanks don’t know who initially posted the party announcement to Reddit, but they were excited to see it get more than 4,000 upvotes. Reddit users from as near as Camden’s hometown in Roanoke, Virginia to as far as Singapore and Canada commented, hoping to make Camden’s birthday extra special. Cards and packages started arriving at the Eubank’s home soon after the post went up.

And somehow, the story got even better.


Two people sent Camden Blake Shelton concert tickets and included some money for Camden to buy a Blake Shelton T-Shirt. Camden dreams of becoming a country music singer, his mom wrote on her Facebook post.

Cam is walking on air- he just got his Blake Shelton tickets and they also gave him an envelope full of money that he's...

Posted by Camden's 10th Birthday Party- An Open Invitation on Friday, July 3, 2015

The water balloon fight party attracted 300 guests, from family and friends to complete strangers who’d heard Camden’s story. The 10-year-old even got a special birthday wish from Senator Mark Warner:

Hi Camden, wanted to wish you a happy 10th birthday! I wish I could be there for the “ultimate water balloon fight” – sounds like a blast!

Posted by Senator Mark Warner on Thursday, July 2, 2015

“With all the stuff that goes on in the world … you just can’t believe when something this good comes along,” Wayne Eubank told The Roanoke Times. “We just asked for a simple water battle and for some people to come to it. We got more than that.”

See more photos from Camden’s birthday festivities below:

A Special thank you to Aarika @ https://www.facebook.com/technicolorcakes?fref=nf&pnref=story

Posted by Camden's 10th Birthday Party- An Open Invitation on Tuesday, July 7, 2015

How My Son's Speech Therapy Ended Up Helping Me

It was an agonizing, gnawing fear.

What if my son didn’t get the help he needed? 

For months my husband and I had been concerned about our toddler’s lack of speech. People kept telling us to give him time and he would magically start speaking one day. Everyone had a story to this effect about someone they knew who was once speech delayed, but suddenly, abruptly caught up. Other people told us we simply needed to read him more books or talk to him more often. This advice was a painful insult to our parenting. Of course we spoke to our son and read him books! More than that, it simply wasn’t true. We could tell our son needed intervention that we weren’t trained to give.

I was desperate. I was afraid my son would continue to fall behind unless we started speech therapy soon. My fear was that he would struggle for years if I didn’t put up a proper fight for him now. 

I cried the day we found out our insurance had approved him for speech therapy. Finally he would get the help he needed. The pit growing in my stomach was beginning to recede.

Still, I was a bit nervous. Having no experience with speech therapy, I pictured my spirited, enthusiastic toddler sitting in a sterile doctor’s office and being drilled on rote speech patterns. Yikes.  

Six months later, I now realize I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My son literally cheers every time we pull into the parking lot. He races inside, eager to meet up with his therapist and then prances across the gym to the toy closet.  I sit on the floor and watch, amazed as his therapists turn every learning activity into a game. Or perhaps they’re turning every game into a learning activity. Either way he adores it.


During these sessions I’ve learned too. I’ve caught onto the hand signals used to cue certain sounds. I’ve studied the basic signs he’s been taught so I can use them at home.  

But I’ve learned deeper things as well. I now know my son is an enthusiastic and tenacious student. He works diligently at every session.        

I’ve learned I’m not in this alone. When my husband deployed a few months ago, it meant I (temporarily) lost my partner in parenting. While friends and family are supportive, they don’t feel the struggle to hear our son speak as keenly as we do. They can’t appreciate how hard he works or how much time we spend practicing at home. With my husband gone, I thought I would be shouldering this responsibility alone.

But I’ve learned I’m not the only one fighting for my son. Our amazing, patient, encouraging speech therapists have joined our team. They’ve been there when I needed advice. They’ve celebrated his accomplishments with me. I know they want my son to succeed just as much as I do.

As I put my son to bed last night, I gave him a rundown on the next day’s events. “And then we’ll go to speech and see Ms. Britt!”


Woo-hoo, indeed, I thought. Speech therapy might be for my son. But it’s been helping me too.  

The Mighty is asking its readers the following: Describe the moment someone changed the way you think about disability and/or disease. If you’d like to participate, please send a blog post to [email protected] Please  include a photo for the piece, a photo of yourself and 1-2 sentence bio.

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