The transmitter on his head is attached via a magnet. The ear level piece has a microphone to catch sound and a computer to code out the sound before sending it up and in.
Ethan and I were at the meat counter at our local grocery yesterday, waiting without the slightest shred of patience for our deli sliced ham and cheese. He has this really enthusiastic and slappy way of communicating, or hitting with gusto. Turning 2 years old has somehow taught him that this is a fun and acceptable way of getting my attention. His batteries on the processor had just died so I was using sign (and voice) to let him know that the hitting game wasn’t really in the cards.
Our interaction garnered some attention, particularly from the friendly woman standing next to me in the meat counter roundup. She smiled broadly at Ethan and said something pleasant to me about the terrible 2’s and what a cutie I had. Then Ethan turned his head. The colossal device that is the transmitter and ear level piece were easily visible. At that instant I noticed the friendly woman quickly turn her glance to the cheese, afraid to be caught staring I’m sure. I understand. It hurts.
On a different day I saw a man in the same grocery blatantly staring at Ethan’s headgear, he must have done a triple take of stares before finally shooting me a dirty look. I was so shocked by it that I just stood there dumbfounded; I should have grabbed a piece of fruit and hurled it at his big ugly head. Later I realized that he probably thought that I had placed a blue-tooth phone on my son’s head.
A child at the library excitedly ran up to me a couple of weeks ago, taking a short break from story time wherein he was seated next to Ethan. He asked me happily “Is that a hearing machine on his head?”
I wish there were more adults in our day-to-day world who were as uninhibited and curious as the little boy at the library.