So Everybody Can Hear

Evan, Maisy, Jack, and I stopped to get a bite of lunch after my eye exam today. The mother in the family sitting behind us was talking, somewhat loudly, about her daughter's preschool report card. She was, rightfully, proud of her little girl's progress and ability to read. She mentioned a few of the things the teacher had emphasized.

As she talked about numbers and letters, I thought about Maisy's upcoming progress meeting, her IEP. We will be discussing past goals and setting new goals, for physical, speech, and occupational therapy. I had an early discussion with her physical therapist yesterday and numbers and letters were not a part of the discussion, granted its physical therapy. However, Maisy's goals are more simple. Things like standing without support, transitioning on her own, forming consonant sounds that relate to objects, communicating wants and needs; things along those lines.

I wouldn't say I was feeling sorry for myself, just curious as I listened to what a normal preschooler would be doing at school. Then my curiosity turned a little towards sadness, but just for a second, because all of a sudden Maisy started laughing hysterically. She leaned into my arm and laughed and laughed. The little preschooler behind me turned and smiled, then she started laughing too. Soon the three of us were laughing over nothing at all. The little girl leaned to me and said, "She is really funny, huh." I said, "She is really funny." The three of us had a lot of fun and a good laugh, without any of the other adults realizing what was going on.
And that was my lesson today. Among the many things Maisy has taught me, she has taught me to laugh. Not like an adult laughs, but like a kid; without reason and without a care for what others may think. So numbers and letters are great, but laughter is my favorite medicine.