At the behest of my 2 y.o.'s preschool, I called up our county's Birth to Three program to have The Animal's (yes, it is a term of endearment) language evaluated. He has always lagged behind, but I chalked it up to his being the youngest of three and that we had it all so figured out that he never had to say exactly what he needed, because we just knew. Well, it turns out that his language is not significantly delayed, but they are concerned with his impulsivity and his significant self-regulation deficiencies, as well as the worrisome drooling that indicates some sensory problem.
What tipped them off to these "self-regulation" issues (that seem kinda like a no-brainer diagnosis for a 2 y.o.)? The Animal was completely charming during most of the interview, playing nicely with the Occupational Therapist and Speech Pathologist that were conducting the survey. He warmed the cockles of my heart every time he said "peeeze!" or "fank you!" for a toy and met my expectations when he got every color wrong that they asked him to identify.... And then the interview started to end and they told him that it was time to put the toys away. He whined, "No." and then smacked the bag of toys out of the Speech woman's hand with a mighty forehand. She picked it up and he yelled, "NO!" as he knocked it out of her hand again, this time aiming for across the room. Then the OT got in on the game as she started to collect her puzzle pieces and asked the Animal to help her by getting the plastic bin that the pieces belonged in. He picked it up, I had a brief hopeful moment, and then he chucked it at her head. Sigh. I shrugged my shoulders at the ladies and simply said, "You can see why we called. I could really use some help here."
They were very sweet and explained that it was a good thing that he was exhibiting this behavior for them so they can see what he is really like. A week later we got the paperwork that he is eligible for therapy twice a month, courtesy of the state of Wisconsin. God, I love this place sometimes!
So the only catch is this: The Animal was the LAST person in our family to not be in therapy. I'm in it to make sense of my 30s and life as I know it, my husband and I are in it to save our marriage from spontaneous combustion, Theo's in it for his "sensitivity" issues, and, god love him, Coops is in for his ADHD. Is it too soon in the story to heave another sigh?
All I have to say is that if we are not the most mentally healthy family in the fucking world by this time next year.... well, I'm just going to have to give up on this whole therapy thing! :-)
P.S. Only five more days of this NaBloPoMo madness--- Wahooo!!!