Disabled!!! (*point point point*)
Pegged. You got us. Ten points for observation.
But think about this: You had a conversation with a two-year old who speaks in full sentences using mostly correct grammar. She was bright and social and friendly.
Come on, admit it; you wish she was your kid.
(I mean, how many times do I have to pull her out of other people’s grocery carts and remind them she’s MINE!)
So I beg you, seriously now, please see my little girl for more than her physical disabilities. Or if you can’t help yourself, don’t bring it up all the time with me! It’s the least you can do! That’s what spouses and friends are for. Talk to them!
I’m not denying she’s disabled; I just don’t utterly and completely define her by that alone.
Yeah about that last sentence: It’s the whole point!
Which reminds me of why Laelia’s IEP was so hard for me. I had to face the fact that Laelia isn’t dressing herself, using the potty, walking to recess… But I was so thankful that her IEP was with people who are wonderful, and saw Laelia the Child, not just Laelia the Liability. I’m not guaranteed to have people as wonderful for Laelia’s entire school career.
In IEP-related news, Laelia will be starting a wonderful preschool on September 20th! She’s super excited and asked to start this Monday.
She’ll be a student, NOT a “disabled student,” and I expect her to fit in gloriously well. One of her friends will be attending the same school, and they may be in the same class. She’s been talking about him ever since she found out. God help the boy–Laelia is a veritable (verbally verbose) friend. Just like her… um, *daddy* (cough).
We had our enrollment appointment for preschool yesterday, and everything went very well. I have a feeling that the principal is nervous about having Laelia there, but other than that feeling, everyone was really great. Laelia even walked out the door with a borrowed book about gravity. She has until September to pronounce the word “gravity,” and give it as an answer to the question, “Why don’t things fall up?” Right now if you ask that question she replies by making crashing noises and falling over.
So Laelia starts school next month, turns three-years old the following month, and has major surgery the month after that. And, really, the first two things on that list scare me almost as much as the third–and those are the “normal” things!
Actually I’d love for someone to explain to me why I can talk about doctors sawing into my daughter’s legs with a straight face, but talking about her turning three-years old makes me sob like a crazy lady! Anyone?
So in conclusion, don’t define my daughter’s life by her disability. She’s a bright, charming, willful, beautiful, almost-three-year old (*sniff*) little girl who has a purpose on this earth that has nothing to do with making others feel better about her physical disabilities.