Have I mentioned my son drives me crazy?
He is three. He is a boy. He is full of action.
Don't get me wrong. He is very loving. He loves his mommy very much.
Unfortunately, he doesn't tell me.
My son is a late-talker. He is 3.5 years old and just started talking six months ago. What a journey. He has been in EI (Early Intervention for those so fortunate so not to know what this is) since 18 months.
We went to see Dr. Camarata in Nashville last year for a diagnosis -- expressive/receptive language disorder. (He said this was a lot of mumbo-jumbo for "late talker"). EI wanted an autism diagnosis so badly they could taste it. Too bad, bitches.
They called a meeting with me and told me he needed to be tested. However, the bitch, um, woman, who suggested this was the person who had him pinned to the floor during freaking "circle time" the first time I took him to "small group" they suggested. I walked in and saw her. I was so scared for him, I didn't take him out of there. And I regret it to this day. I also didn't rat on her to her superior who was also in the meeting. She actually asked. What a coward I was.
I can promise you if that happened today, I would spill my guts faster than Michael Vick would torture a dog.
My son is finally talking. Thank God. He can work a computer as well as I. He still has a journey ahead of him, but the panic those damn bitches put into my head will never go away. He is not average. He is hard to handle. He is strong-willed. Those character traits will actually help make him successful if he uses them for good instead of evil.
If I sound bitter, I am most certainly am. My son drives me crazy. He is also the shining light of my life.