Tiny Coconut

I have things.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Our Regularly Scheduled Angst

I have a conundrum.

OK, so, see? We're going to this preschool evaluation for N today. There are going to be about four or five people there, looking at him...a school psychologist, a speech/language pathologist, a general education specialist, a special education teacher, and a school nurse. And I'm torn about what I want them to see.

I want them to see my very special boy. I want them to tell me how very special he is, how wonderful. And then I want them to say, "But, yes, we have a program that can help him overcome the social hurdles he seems to be encountering, and we can help him become an even better N."

The problem is, he's progressing really well right now. I'm not sure they're going to see the same N that others have seen and worried about. I'm not sure they're going to want to spend even a penny of their very precious special ed dollars on him, because there are so many kids who are in a much worse position. And if I weren't this kid's mom, I'd probably agree with them. But I am this kid's mom, and I know that even with his progress, he's still going to have a hell of a time in kindergarten, and I think we can "save" him if we just get him a little therapy right now.

So I'm going armed with his own preschool's assessment sheet from earlier this year, and my posts about what's been going on. (I figure if can't hurt.) I'm looking for the shirt he darned near chewed to pieces at the Little Gym recently, during a day when he actually almost participated fully. And I'm going armed with the wisdom of many moms who've been where I am before. But I fear it's not enough. And that's where the conundrum comes in.

Part of me wants to talk to N the whole way there, get him psyched to show off all his tricks, because I'm his mommy, and I can't help but want people to see how wonderful he is. But the other part of me wants to sabotage him, get his anxiety going, make sure he clings to me the way he often does in strange situations. Part of me want to tell him that the people we're going to see want to meet his imaginary friends, so he should show them to them. Part of me wants to scare him and tell him that he may have to go in a room with a bunch of children he doesn't know, just to get him all riled up.

I don't think I can do it; certainly, not all of that. It's just a little too Munchhausen-by-proxy for me. Still the temptation is mighty strong...

I'll let you know how we do later...

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