I've been putting off writing this post. Mostly because it's emotional for me and also because I'm afraid my words will fall short and seem trite.
{Deep breath}
Buster Boy, or better known in these parts as #2, just wrapped up his final year of preschool and will be heading to Kindergarten in a few short months. Natural sentimental feelings surround this event for me, but something deeper too. I feel relief, gratitude and pride. And I wouldn't be a mother if I didn't feel guilt.
When #2 turned two I knew in my gut that his lack of verbal communication was serious and that despite everyone's well intentioned advice, "Oh, boys just talk later," or "Give it time, some kids just take longer," I knew something needed to be done. When I consulted with my pediatrician, she went through his chart and began counting, one, two, three, nine, ten, twelve, thirteen.... ear infections. And those were just the ones we caught. Yes, #2 would be a prime suspect for speech delay.
Over the next year as I wrangled with Arizona Early Invention the difficulties with #2 were multiplying. He was getting bigger and stronger and increasingly more frustrated that he couldn't be understood. #2's lack of speech was effecting everything, mealtime, playtime, church time, travel time, the other children, my ability to leave him with babysitters. Although at his core he was affectionate and wanted to do right, his frustrations had turned him into an angry, defiant and often violent boy. Sometimes as I physically struggled with him my heart would be weeping for the innocent child inside.
We were blessed with a talented speech therapist who made significant progress with #2 in the 10 sessions we had with her before he turned three and was kicked out of the early intervention program. At his third birthday he could say, "I want..." "Can I try?" Just these little phrases brought much needed peace to our house.
The next step for #2 was to start special needs preschool three times a week where he would receive speech therapy. But this was not an easy step for me. #2 was not socially or emotionally prepared to spend that kind of time away from home. His behavior, although much improved, was still often volatile and I worried that his teacher would not have enough patience to deal with him lovingly. I also felt defensive and protective of my sweet boy. What if no one else could see the great potential in him? What if no one else could see past his angry exterior and into his soft soul?
Some of you long time readers may remember this post. Here is an excerpt of what I wrote on his first day of preschool:
"It was torturous to hear him crying as a I left him on the playground. He is so little! Ok, he's pretty huge, but he IS very young. I felt like I had just turned him over to the wolves. His teacher is not in fact a wolf, but a very compassionate woman. I hid in some bushes across from the play ground to watch him. Pretty soon he picked himself up from the sidewalk (where he was tantruming), got on a tricycle and started to ride around. I watched until they had gone inside the classroom and #2 seemed happy.
"Later when I picked him up, he wasn't so happy. He had had a terrible time. Uncooperative, crying; he had refused snack and recess. He ran to me and collapsed on my shoulder. Great! Now I really felt like I had made a mistake in sending him to preschool! However, I knew we had to give it another chance."
Preschool proved to be a great blessing. #2's teacher soon found his sweet nature buried beneath the defiance. She was firm but loving. She was positive and focused on #2's triumphs. The routines at school soon became routines at home and much of our daily struggles disappeared. #2's teacher and I began to compare notes about what worked at school and what worked at home so we could give him consistent expectations. It was working! #2 was happier! Our home was happier!
Over the next year #2 transformed into a polite, well mannered, happy and very social little boy. And it wasn't just me that noticed. Thank you, all you friends and family members, who took a moment to tell me that you noticed the changes in #2. It meant so much to me and gave me hope and confidence.
So last week wrapped up #2's two and a half year education at preschool. He left in a blaze of glory. Happy, attentive, social and ready for Kindergarten. I mentioned at the beginning that I feel guilt. I feel guilty that there was ever a part of me that doubted. A part of me that worried he wouldn't be ready. But far outshining my guilt, is my gratitude for a loving teacher, for the Lord's hand and for my precious #2.
Here are some pictures of his last day:
proudly displaying his hard-earned diploma
preschool buddies
snack time
Silly Sally, by Audrey Wood
#2 wrote this letter to his beloved teacher, "Thank you to be so lovely." 
