Today Big Daddy and I met with the therapists who evaluated Littlebit last month. Initially, I thought she was only having her speech assessed, but they ended up doing both physical and occupational assessments. Today, we met about Littlebit’s IEP. Today, they wrote “developmental delay” on a line.
And tears pricked my eyes.
I understand that those words don’t define Littlebit. They make her nothing more or nothing less than she was before the meeting this morning. I understand that. But those words are a little part of Littlebit now.
And I don’t like them.
I said so long ago that my fear has always been that the million things we love about Littlebit are evidence of a problem that we’ve not seen or that we’ve over looked because we love her. The Princess would disagree, I’m sure, but Littlebit is so easy to love. It’s so easy to take her positives and enthusiasm and dancing and jumping and “watch this trick!” and never see the subtle things that were the point of contention today.
Big Daddy believes Littlebit will be fine. The therapists say that early intervention is the key. The teacher says that Littlebit takes correction in the class room that will help elevate some of her problems.
She drew that diagonal line in the opposite direction both times. Does that mean she could be at risk for dyslexia? Will she always struggle? Will school be difficult? Will she fail? Will she struggle?
Will she struggle?
I hand her the Target bag. She reaches for it with her right hand.
“No”, I say, “use your other hand.”
She turns her body instead of moving her arm across the midline.
“No, don’t turn your body”, I say.
She turns and grabs the bag with her left hand and laughs at me.
“Mama, you a silly goose.”
She’s probably right. Everything will probably be fine. I probably am being a silly goose.
Will she struggle? Will she struggle?