"What's Leia woofing at?" Julia asked.
Leia was downstairs woofing at a little neighbor girl that had come by to see if Julia could come out and play. It should have been one of those rare moments when it's actually nice having a child with hearing loss. Instead she heard the barking dog, knew someone was at the door, and embarked on an involved conversation about how she should be permitted to get right out of the tub to go talk to her friend.
These observations of my daughter's moderate-to-severe hearing loss have made me think hearing is our strangest sense. There is no telling what she will respond to with or without her hearing aids. There are so many variables.
Occasionally she detects a sound way outside of what I expect her to hear.
Then with the hearing aids, at the crowded end of season soccer party, she doesn't flinch when I call her name.
There are no absolutes. After two and a half years, that is still surprising. I expect defined limits, like the old days of my blurry near sighted eyes. Before my LASIK I knew how it would be every time I took off my glasses. The world was equally murky every time I looked at it.
The world of sound is different. I wonder if I'll ever get it, or if I'm always going to be surprised.