Runs with scissors...

I guess the first day of Pre-K is when someone else noticed Jack was "lagging". I remember walking in, trying to hold my emotions in check. My wee boy with his backpack trying to be brave while staying as close to us as possible, the smell of manila paper, freshly sharpened pencils and the "new school clothes" smell pervading the colorful space.

The teacher called them each by name and had them sit at their seats and cut photos out of magazines. All the other children got busy. Jack just stared at the scissors, looked increasingly concerned then buried his face in my lap and wept as my heart broke.

He: "I don't know how to do it. I want to go home."

Me: "Here, let me show you."

We worked at it and he got the hang of it enough that he said I could go. Rob and I went home to the house. The silent, still, too too quiet house. We sat on the couch and just looked at each other and the pets that looked at us as if to ask, "where is that small, loud one?" All of us just sat - quiet and still - and watched the numbers slowly change on the cable box until it was time to go get the boy.

When we picked him up he was so happy to see us. Ms. S. said he had done fairly well that she was sure he'd be ok once he settled in. The days passed, each of us becoming more comfortable with the new schedule and routine. One day at pick-up I was taken aside.

Jack only wants to play alone. No matter what I do he stays away from the other kids. He will talk to them but not get close. He also keeps slamming into walls and hitting himself in the head.

My heart sank and all the air went out of me and my world.

He was fine at the program he had been in the last two years except for rare "slamming" incidents. I filled in Ms. S. and she felt sure he would be ok once he got used to school. I hoped she was right but I wasn't sure.

As time went on the now familiar pattern began to assert itself. He is so smart, what a vocabulary, he only uses one color crayon, had trouble following lines, gross motor lags.

He finally opened up to the kids and the teacher. He would play by them but not so much with them. He loved all the manipulatives, it was a Montessori so it was great for him. Loved to do puzzles and build, would get in trouble for using the other manipulatives to build things. Ended up having a fairly good year but the stage had been set and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach was firmly in place.

I tried, I swear I did. I Googled and Yahooed and harrassed the ped and asked other moms and read books and got told over and over he was fine, he would grow out of it, it is nothing to worry about. *I* knew it was and I was constantly told I was overreacting. The more I fought and searched the less I found and the more frightened I became. Depression soon overwhelmed the fright and I just pulled him closer, helped him along as much as I could and hoped that I was wrong and he would indeed outgrow it.