Cordy has been in daycare, two days a week, for four weeks now. Every day after the first has been met with screaming “No school!” followed by one of her teachers having to pry her off of whichever of my limbs she has tried to melt into while I make my getaway.
The day doesn’t remain that bad, thank goodness. Usually at the end of the day we return to find her playing with a toy with a smile on her face. But it’s clear she missed us, too, as she sees us and yells, “Mommy! Daddy! You saved me!”
But all is not perfect at school, either. Any transition between activities is met with a full out tantrum and tears. One day she had to be removed from an assembly because she wouldn’t calm down and it was bothering everyone. She refuses to feed herself most items, and as a result she won’t eat much. (The teachers do make sure she eats something during the day, however.) We have to send one of her sippy cups or she’ll go the entire day without drinking anything, too. She spends most of the day playing by herself and not participating in group activities.
Last week I ran into Aaron’s aunt, who happens to be the director of the preschool and daycare. We chatted for a few minutes, and then she leaned in a little closer to me. “Hey, are you still thinking about having Cordy evaluated for developmental delays?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so. Why?”
She put a hand on my upper arm. “I had the chance to watch her a little bit today, and I think getting her evaluated is a good idea. She’s the oldest in her classroom, and while she’s probably smarter than most of the other kids, in behavioral age she’s one of the youngest in the room. I definitely don’t think she’ll be ready for the three-year olds room when she turns three in the fall.”
We continued talking about Cordy’s behavior and how she really isn’t like the other kids. She’s never had the ability to cope well with transitions. Other kids can happily finish their paintings and move on to storytime, but Cordy can’t switch gears without a meltdown. She has the physical ability to use a spoon and fork (we’ve seen her do it), yet when it comes time to use them to eat, she simply can’t do it. If she’s not in control of the situation, a tantrum shortly follows.
Cordy’s vocabulary is growing every day. She knows hundreds of words. Yet when it comes to carrying on a conversation, she struggles. Many times what she says is simply a phrase she heard from us or from TV. When she’s bored, she will quietly talk to herself, quoting entire scenes of Dora or Backyardigans or some other show, word for word, with different voices for each character. If she ever wants to be an actress, she’ll have no trouble memorizing her lines.
Aaron’s aunt watched her try to interact with another little girl. Cordy approached her and said something that his aunt couldn’t hear. The little girl responded in a positive way to Cordy. But Cordy stared at her, unsure of where to take the conversation next, then turned and ran away.
I’ve seen these quirks developing for several months now, and Aaron and I have struggled with the thought of having her evaluated. The option has been debated over and over in my head. On one hand, I see her all the time and see how other kids don’t act the same way. On the other hand, my mom would remind me, “You’re not exactly normal, either, so why should you expect it from her?”
I’ve often wondered if this is all in my head and I’m seeing problems that don’t exist. I don’t want her to have problems – I want my child to be perfect in every way, like most moms. But there comes a point when you wonder if it’s only your kid who has a screaming half-hour tantrum because you bought her the toy she wanted, or who can spend over an hour at the playground and not once acknowledge another child there.
Even worse is the feeling that I’m somehow responsible for her awkward social behavior. Did I do something wrong that has shaped her into a child who can’t cope with change? Did I not take her to the playground enough? Was there too much of a routine at home? Should I have been more strict, forcing her to do things my way and not let her have any control? Did she watch too much TV? Did taking an anti-depressant during pregnancy cause this?
So now I’m taking Cordy for an initial evaluation this Wednesday. We’ve been considering it for months, but it wasn’t until Aaron’s aunt – a childcare professional with over twenty years of experience – admitted that she saw possible warning signs that I finally made the call. They’ll look at all aspects of her development, give me an assessment, and if they do see any problems, give us some idea of where to go next.
I’m not sure what I’m hoping for from the evaluation. I know Cordy isn’t your average toddler. She’s different, but I don’t know if it’s a kind of different that requires intervention. It’s like a stab to the heart to see her wander her classroom, playing by herself, unsure of how to interact with the other kids. It hurts to see other kids approach her, trying to befriend her, only to be ignored or answered with some babbled line from Dora. If this continues, eventually the other kids will stop trying.
She’s a happy child much of the time, she’s funny, and she’s so very smart. But I worry she’s not normal, and while it’s OK not to be normal (heaven knows I’ve never been “normal”), I want her to be successful in life. She will need social skills, and she will need to deal with change. I’d never push her to totally conform with the crowd – a drone in a sea of average – because I know she’s anything but average. But without social skills, she’ll be that weird kid in the corner that no one likes.
I guess we’ll see what happens on Wednesday.
