Originally uploaded by CleverGirlBek
Finished the language and speech part of kiddo’s evaluation with the county folks…
Turns out he’s on the upper end of the average range or above it on all things.
Except one.
In receptive language he is severely impaired.
While we had a bunch of work to do before this, now we can focus a little, but I feel like we are snowed in and a little panicked…
Even though this isn’t really news to us. I mean, the term “receptive language” and all of the other language stuff is, well, like a foreign language to me. We knew something was going on, we still don’t know what, but at least we have some validation to our observations which is little comfort, but at the same time, I am forever second guessing myself in a way that I’m going backwards from acceptance and I’m trying to reach for denial with all of my might so maybe I can just curl up with kiddo there and pretend everything is 80’s sitcom normal. But I never get there. And I’m really tired. We could all use the break. But there are no breaks in sight…
So the eval (we haven’t had our formal review yet) was on Thursday and on Friday I came home from a pharmacy run and boy told me a story. Then he told me another one. My little boy stood there and very slowly and meticulously told me something that happened in his day. There was a beginning, a middle, and an end.
He is five.
He told me that he came home and there was a box from amazon.com on the chair. He told me that he looked inside and it was empty. He told me the box didn’t belong on the chair. He told me that he brought the box to the recycling bin. He told me that with Daddy’s help they smashed up the box and put it in the recycling bin.
It was the most gripping account of anything I have ever heard in my entire life.
My little guy doesn’t tell stories. He doesn’t have conversations where he is an active participant in the dance that is a conversation. He blurts stuff. He collects facts. He runs into the room and announces that “The big radio at Target looks like a face” and runs out… He is random yet structured in every part of his life. He does not tell stories. He does not answer questions.
Later that evening I was snuggling with him in the big bed before story time. I asked him about school and the other kids. He has been having a hard time. I asked him why he couldn’t finish his lessons in class today (according to his teacher via my husband).
I expected nothing, except perhaps a change of subject. Lately, his obsession is smoke alarms and fire sprinkler systems, so I was expecting the step by step run down of the sprinkler trigger mechanism.
Instead, he told me- slowly and step by step – that one of the younger kids came over and took his blue colored pencil and broke it so he could not do his lesson.
I was floored.
I asked him if he told the teacher and he said no.
We talked about what to do next time something like that happens.
Of course, from what I know of the way his brain works, the solution we discussed can and will only apply to the very same situation, with the very same child, and the very same lesson, and the very same blue pencil. He is very literal and rigid about these things.
But he told me, and we talked about it.
Today everything was back to the usual. The three of us are just so shell shocked with everything in our lives that we were all pinging off the walls and irritating each other.
But that one glimpse of his problem solving with the box, and what happened at school, are gifts I will not squander, for their rarity is unparalled.
Hopefully, when the rhythm of school begins again in the new week, we’ll be able to have more of these talks.
I don’t think he is understanding it yet, but I think he is working on memorizing conversational and story patterns…If that is the case, I can get that little glimpse into his school day, that may help him more than anything else…
And, faithful reader, if you have read this far, you are probably wondering about the picture…
Hubby was taking a picture of kiddo with his new Rubik’s Cube (he can’t mix up the colors, it will put him over the edge and if he finds out the stickers come off none of us will ever sleep again….) and told him to hold the cube in his hand…
So he is holding the cube in his hand….
Accidental Thong 