All About "Lefty": The Best Part Wasn't Even In the IEP...

I just had Curtis' IEP meeting, as you recall, and it was awesome. The therapists and his teacher went on and on about how much progress he's made. How much he's grown. How amazed they are by him and all his achievements in this past year. No doubt, everything I wanted to hear. We all agreed that we are proud of him. Considering how unsure I was at the start of the school year, I was so happy to hear all of this at the meeting that concluded the year. He had reached several goals on his IEP.

Stepping aside from that for a minute, I want to talk about something really cool that happened this past weekend. Curtis went to a birthday party. I know what you're thinking--what? Big deal! Yeah, OK, so he's been to a bazillion birthday parties in his almost-5-years of life, but this one was different. What was so special about this birthday party was that it was all his own. And by that I mean his older siblings were not invited. In the past, Curtis has gone to parties for kids his age, but his siblings have also been invited because the kids having the party were family friends. The party this weekend was for a friend of Curtis' from preschool. In fact, it was for one of his best little buddies from school--a kid that he connected with from the beginning of the school year. And I can't even tell you how much fun it was to watch Curtis at this little pirate-themed party. Seeing him run around the park with all of his friends from preschool was like a dream come true for me. To help you understand, I'll have to take you back in time about 2 years, if you don't mind, to the first IEP meeting I had with the school district...

During that first meeting, they tried to convince me to sign Curtis up for his first year of preschool. He would, after all, be 3 years old by the start of the school year. But he was unprepared in so many ways. I won't go into too much detail with all the things I was worried about, but the fact that we hadn't started potty-training, his speech issues, and problems with balance were a few. All of those were issues they said they could "deal with" considering he was special needs. I didn't feel comfortable putting him in class, though, with a group of "average" three-year-olds that were potty-trained, had a good vocabulary, and could navigate a playground like nobody's business. And I didn't want him to be "dealt with", I wanted him to more or less slide right in. To fit in.

Besides all of this other stuff I was worried about, however, I had another concern. Curtis was lacking in social skills. Sure, he had older siblings, so he was always around other kids, but that wasn't the type of socializing he needed. He had never been part of a play group. He never went to toddler music class like my other kids. The time that should have been spent doing those things--the type of things that help socialize babies and toddlers--was instead spent mostly in therapy sessions. No other children were involved in those therapy sessions, it was me, Curtis, and the therapist. Even our trips to the park weren't spent interacting with other little kiddos. That time usually involved me shadowing him everywhere--to help him up and down every little step, to make sure he didn't trip, to be there just in case any other kid bumped into him and knocked him off balance. Park time wasn't social hour with other toddlers, it was Curtis and Mommy time. In fact, almost every hour of every day was Curtis and Mommy time. I never had a problem with this, I loved it, but I now realized it was a problem for Curtis. Before he started school, he needed to be around kids--lots of them! So in addition to the potty-training, I had to get him socialized.

Luckily, he's a pretty social kid! And I completely lucked out that our city's Park and Rec. Department had a PRE-preschool "Mommy-and-Me" class. I spoke to the teacher and she made an exception on the age limit for Curtis (max age was supposed to be around 3 yrs old, if I recall, and they let him go until he was around 3 1/2). It was perfect for him. He learned the basics of preschool: circle time, snack time, singing little songs, and how to share and play with kids his own age. It was great. Still--it was "Mommy and me". I was there to help with any problems. Always there.

Then I blinked and it was August 2012 and time for real preschool. Lo and behold, I still had my doubts. Had I done enough to get him ready? How would he feel being around all these new kids? Would the other kids like him and want to play with him? Would they notice things about him? That he couldn't or wouldn't go up and down the play structure like they did? That he walked different? That he couldn't run as fast or jump as high or ride a tricycle? If they did notice these things, would they ostracize him? Would he be an outcast? I spent hours (maybe days...OK, maybe the whole summer) worrying about these things. Wondering if the kids would accept him. Constantly going over and over all the different "worst case scenarios" in my mind. And do you know what? Here is what happened when those little 3 year old kids met Curtis and spent time getting to know him--nothing. And I mean that in the best way possible. All of those things I worried about and spent countless hours awake at night picturing in my mind--none of them happened. At least not that I am aware of. If a kid made fun of him or decided to not play with him because of his differences, no one ever told me about it. All I ever heard from Curtis was "my friend played with me today" and "I played on the swings with my friend" and "I have a new friend!" And all that I ever saw were smiles.

So as I was sitting at this birthday party last weekend, looking at the kids from Curtis' class, it dawned on me. These kids in his preschool class--his very first "for reals" class EVER--are so special. Why? Because they all looked at my little boy and they loved him. They didn't see any differences. Or if they did, they didn't care. They saw a little boy that wanted to play and laugh and have fun, just like they did. He wanted to run and jump and look for bugs and play dress-up and ride tricycles and roar like a lion. He wanted to explore. He wanted to learn. Just like them. They have spent the last almost 10 months with him and they have helped him become a "regular" little boy. I have no doubt that they helped him get over his fear of slides. I also have no doubt that they are the reason he now tells me, "No, I want to do it all by myself, Mom!" They taught him what it was like to be a 3 or 4 year old (yes, temper tantrums and stubbornness included). During the recent IEP meeting, his teacher told me about one day when a little boy in the class was teaching Curtis how to stack magnetic blocks using two hands, because Curtis was trying (and failing) to do it with only one hand. She told me how patient the little boy was with him and how Curtis watched and listened and followed his lead. So these kids are even acting as therapists--haha! But, seriously...so damn amazing, I'm telling you. And they don't even realize it, these kids. How could they? They're just being kids. Playing. Having fun. When I picked Curtis up from school the other day, one of the little girls in his class yelled out to him, "Bye, Curtis! I love you!" I mean, give me a break. I almost lost it right there. They love him. And the feeling, I assure you, is mutual.

A few weeks ago, if you would have asked me how Curtis has changed or grown since starting preschool last August, I might have given you a list of things like this: he can now go down the slide on the playground, he can ride a tricycle, he can use scissors to cut a straight line, he can draw a "+" and a "o". Things that would show up as goals on an IEP, basically.

Now I am thinking beyond that. Curtis now has his own friends. He gets invited to birthday parties--ones that his big brother and big sister don't get invited to. He has kids that get excited to see him at school and ask him if he wants to play the second he shows up. He has little girls that tell them that they love him (teehee). All of this...this is all big to him. It's made him a different kid. I know that all that other stuff--the pages and pages of stuff that is in the IEP--is crucial, don't get me wrong. But none of this cool social stuff that happened was even in the IEP. It just happened! And I think it's just as important. Curtis has grown and made progress simply by being around those adorable, sweet, fun little kiddos that he calls his friends. His buddies.

They are awesome. I will never forget them for changing my boy.

Photos from the party, you say? OK...