I wike boys

The other day, walking to C's Advanced Aquababies class, she was talking about a party we recently had at our house. It included lots of kids, including a few big boys who ran hard and played catch. 

C was fascinated, and talked about the boys for days. "I wike boys!" She declared. God help me. Lol.

***

Speaking of boys. For those who have followed this blog for awhile. you are familiar with the struggles with M-man in school. His last school was run by horrible people who knowingly kept a nutjob teacher on staff who posed nude on the Internet, and a school that pushed him out of lots of threats and accusations that we as parents weren't doing enough for him.

M-man is now finishing up the year at his current school and has worked with loving, compassionate and uber-patient teachers.

He has still struggled with transitions and expressing his emotions, moreso than other kids. Months ago, we initiated a process with his current school, and this past week was the final evaluation meeting.

My son is academically doing great. His IQ, we were told, is "superior." Speechwise, advanced -- M-man can talk a blue streak, so I could have told them that. And he is what is considered "developmentally delayed."

To put it in terms as best as I understand it, he is stressed, really stressed sometimes. Last week at his school's field day, as his class moved from one set of activities to the next, he struggled and got frustrated. It made me sad to see him having trouble, and getting frustrated and acting out.

It dawned on me, as it has many times, that the little guy is really doing the best he can. It breaks my heart a little that I can't easily fix things, make it easier for him to glide through his day.

The team who worked his case was wonderful -- so thoughtful, kind and thorough. They really got to know him and understand him, and helped the hub and I to understand, too. Not once did they accuse us of anything, or demand we sign some bullshit piece of paper.

Sorry. I am still bitter.

Moving on. We will now look for a "blended" pre-K class for M-man within the school district, so he is with kids with IEPs and kids without. The team predicts he'll easily transition to kindergarten if he spends a year getting more of the one-on-one direction he needs in the classroom every day.

It's scary -- it means another school change and logistics in already complicated mornings and evenings of pickups and dropoffs. It means we need to sit down soon with the daycamp he'll attend this summer. They don't know him or us from Adam. But the IEP is the document that will help him, and help those who will help him.

And yet it is a big weight off our shoulders. Finally, after months of struggling and being advocates for our little boy, we have a solid plan.

As C would say, "I wike it."