Wednesday, March 30, 2011
He's always disappointed that they don't want to hear him count past twenty. What's up with that?
Another activity that's involved in these evaluations is having Little Dude look at pictures, and say what's happening in the pictures. The speech therapist flips the pages in the book, asking questions, and Little Dude is supposed to explain the action, such as it is. I mean, it's not like explaining the intricacies of the Jedi Battle level in Lego Star Wars, but whatevs. He participates anyway.
Today the explanations went like this:
Speech Therapist: "What is the girl doing?"
Little Dude (bored): "Riding a bike."
Speech Therapist: "What is the clown holding?"
Little Dude (with a shudder): "Balloons."
Speech Therapist: "What is the boy doing?"
Little Dude (visibly perking up): "Crying! I know why he's crying! Becuse of the clown on the last page!"
Seriously, I almost peed my pants. Okay, I may have actually peed my pants a little but it's not my fault, my bladder's been stomped on by four babies and frankly those Kegels just don't put everything back exactly.
Other than that, the evaluations were pretty routine. Except that Little Dude was acing everything. He should still qualify for speech therapy. When the speech therapist asked him what he likes to play, he said "Lego Star Wars." She thought he said "little dogs." So obviously, we'd like to work on that clarity. Because it's extremely important to Little Dude that you know that he loves Lego Star Wars and hates little dogs.
In terms of physical therapy, he may qualify for periodic consults. He's pretty up to speed on everything, except that he might freak out on the stairs when there's lots of other kids in the stairwell. That's probably not so much a genuine motor issue as it is him not wanting other people to touch him. I think he believes that other kids are so unpredictable that they might just shove him down the stairs. I guess that's one of the things about autism -- he just doesn't know what other people are thinking, and it scares the crap out of him.
Speaking of crap, no one has any suggestions on what the heck to do about the potty training situation. So far, bribery has been only moderately successful. The boy can hold it for just about forever, so it probably won't be too much of an issue in half-day kindergarten, but still, it's an issue for me. He can't figure out how to poop on the potty, and I can't figure out how to teach him. Our next meeting is with a school district psychologist, and I totally plan on taking advantage of that and picking her brain on this topic.
And then there's Occupational Therapy. This is where the bittersweet comes in. His skills are where they need to be, at least for now, so he doesn't need any OT. This is the whole point of early intervention: you try to solve the problems early, and then the kids catch up. Is he caught up, because we've worked so hard, and for so long, and now the OT issues are gone? We don't know. His teacher, the OT, and I will all keep an eye on him throughout the school year to see make sure he continues to make progress.
It freaks me out, to see any of his supports fall away. As much as it was like a knife though my heart the first time someone said the words special education to me, full-on mainstreaming now worries me. I want him to have that cushion. I want him to be protected. It's not what he needs, though.
We'll be putting into place all kinds of other supports in terms of an IEP, accommodations, and transition planning. And I know this is how it's supposed to work. He is gaining skills, and needs less help. He still can't put his own sneakers on, but I realized today that he can blow his own nose. And that's huge.
At one point I sat in the hallway of the kindergarten, and watched kids go by, headed to the bathroom or the front office or the nurse. And while I marveled at their independence, I also noticed that their hair was messed up, their pants were on twisted, and they're all generally goofy and awesome.
Just like Little Dude.