Oh, for heaven's sake, I am such a blubbering fool.
We are in the looooonnnnnggggg process (7 meetings) to transition Kean from
the Infant - Toddlers program where he gets all of his therapy at home to the school district
where he will get most of his therapy in school.
Yes, I said school. He turns three in August and will go into a special pre-school.
I've already met his teacher-to-be and she is wonderful.
Last week, I had to take him to school so he could be observed in the classroom for three hours.
I want you to know, I held it together in the parking lot...
And in the classroom.
Even though right before we got there, a boy had thrown up in the bathroom (they were keeping him in there
with an aid until his mom could come get him), another mother grabbed her son and said she was out of there because
she didn't need to deal with any more germs or illness in her home... and another kid was sobbing and clinging to his mother.
It wasn't quite the calm classroom I had envisioned.
I played with Kean for about 45 minutes and then left him with an aid.
There are about 7 kids in the class, two aids, a teacher, a physical therapist, an occupational therapist and a speech therapist work with the children.
Talk about a village.
That's his teacher, Ashley in the black playing with him.
He looks so tiny and IS TINY. One of the other kids kept coming up to him and calling him "baby".
And he does look like a baby in there-- he doesn't walk, only says a couple of words and signs a few signs.
In many areas, he tested on the level of a 13 month old. Can you imagine sending a 13 month old to school?
Ug.
When I came back to get him, Ashley said he had played for a while, then burst into tears when he realized
I was gone. Settled down, played some more, then cried some more.
He finally exhausted himself and slept through a chunk of the class.
Go figure.
I'm embarrassed to admit, I lost it in the parking lot after I left him.
That kid was right... he is a baby -- my baby.
We will get through this.
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