The school psychologist has a voice like a child. She sounds much too young to be telling me that the classroom teacher has asked her to do an assessment of Kimani’s mouthing behaviors so that a formal plan of action can be created to discourage such things as eating the wood chips on the playground.
It never ends... the things that don’t happen for her as they are supposed to. These things, they jump out like a springing puppet in an old-fashioned jack-in-the-box. The twisted metal handle with the wooden knob is always turning, the song of simple notes is always playing... always, always, always... and then BOING! Heartbreak #4829. (But really, who's counting?)
She is not delayed. She is detoured. She will not be coming back around this way. She tromps on delicate feet into uncharted territory. Her tiny fists are balled up. If you were to pry them open, you would find the hearts of her parents, crushed, one in each hand.
I’m Just a Mom – Not a “Special Needs Mom.” - Every so often I stumble across an essay that talks about how great it is to be a Special Needs Mom, or how hard it is to be a Special Needs Parent, and ...