25 October 2016


Yeah, you know me.

You're welcome if you now have that song in your head.

Moving on.

LB had her scheduled IEP yesterday. We'd met with the child development center in August to discuss her transition out of Early Intervention and into state funded preschool, should she qualify. In September, she had an evaluation that would determine her eligibility.

I waited on the results, but after a month went by and I hadn't heard anything, I dropped in to ask. Turns out, I would have to wait to find out the results at her IEP, which could ultimately be rendered pointless depending on the results of her evaluation.

Alas, yesterday was the day. I loaded up my two (not so) babies and drove over, not sure if we would be discussing preschool or turning around and coming right home. They started with the results. She excelled in most every area she was tested in, and scored in the second percentile for expressive language.

Given that she was in early intervention solely for expressive language, this shouldn't have come as a surprise. Though, my initial reaction was that I thought it would be higher. She talks nonstop all day and is constantly adding more words to her vocabulary and improving pronunciation.

As the woman reading the results continued, pointing out all of the things LB was not able to do, I started to counter with what she is able to do, and what she's learned even in the few short weeks since her observation.

I stopped myself when I realized what I was doing.

Does it matter what percentile her speech is in? No. But as it stands, she's in the second and she's worked damn hard to get there. She is so determined and tries with absolutely everything she has. I'm not going to downplay her perseverance by offering up all the other things that come easy to her by way of comparison or pointing out the areas she's above average in.

She speaks more at home and with people she knows than she does in an unfamiliar environment, so while I think the assessment scored her a bit below her capabilities, she still qualifies for assistance and I'm not about to stand in the way of something that might be beneficial to her.

Since she turns three this month, she will no longer be receiving in-home speech therapy, and she will stop going to the toddler preschool class she's been attending. I was told that she would be able to start preschool twice a week at a school close to our home, beginning next month. I signed the necessary forms and we were on our way with plans to visit the school soon and meet her new teachers.

An hour later, I had a voicemail from the woman I'd just met with. It turns out, the preschool only takes children who are four. Their next idea was to have her attend another class at the center with speech forty minutes a week.

So that's our plan. Not exactly what we'd expected, but it's something and we're going with it.

In other news, we're gearing up for our first visit with the geneticist this week. It's been a two year wait to get in. I just hope I don't forget my list of things to talk about.

In other, other news, she's three this weekend and we're launching into official party mode.

Yeah right, we've been planning for a couple months now.

UPDATE: I just got a call. Strings were pulled and she gets to go to the original school we'd been hoping for. It's racially diverse, as far as Utah's standards (only 65% white) and we're thrilled. Hallelujah.

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