My watch reads 2:23 as I pull into the half-empty parking lot of the local County Board of Developmental Disabilities. I’m early. I brace myself and, holding my breath, head into the building. Pick-ups are always nerve wracking. As I pass the office, the secretary calls out, “Hi Michelle!” I smile and return her greeting. She must sense my anxiety because she looks at me and says, “I didn’t hear anything today.” I heave a huge sigh of relief. “That’s great,” I say (and looking up silently whisper “Thank you”).
I make my way into the area that houses the classrooms and play areas. As I enter the play center, I am greeted by the sight of 14 little ones lined up in a neat little row dressed in their cute little hats and coats. They have just come in from playing outside and are waiting their turn at the drinking fountain. A quick glimpse tells me that, yes, this is Noah’s class. I scan the heads of the little ones, looking for that unmistakable red Lightning McQueen hat that Noah wears to school EVERY day, but I can’t seem to find it…..at first.
My eyes come to rest on Noah’s aide. She turns to her right, and there off to the side of the group, is my sweet little boy. I feel tears start to well up. He is standing alone, halfway into the speech therapist’s office,. He is staring fixatedly at the fluorescent light in the ceiling. He doesn’t even seem to notice that I have entered the room, but his little “friends” have. Almost in unison, cries of “Noah! Your mommy’s here! Noah!” rise up from the line of 3-year-olds. Still Noah doesn’t seem to notice. Finally, his aide kneels down and touches Noah on the shoulder. She speaks to him and after a few seconds he looks up. “Mama! You’re here!” he cries and comes running to me. I pick him up and squeeze him for all that I am worth. He pulls away, looks at me with those beautiful eyes and says, “I need to go home.” As new tears spring to my eyes, I reply “Okay, Noni. We’re going home.”
I make my way into the area that houses the classrooms and play areas. As I enter the play center, I am greeted by the sight of 14 little ones lined up in a neat little row dressed in their cute little hats and coats. They have just come in from playing outside and are waiting their turn at the drinking fountain. A quick glimpse tells me that, yes, this is Noah’s class. I scan the heads of the little ones, looking for that unmistakable red Lightning McQueen hat that Noah wears to school EVERY day, but I can’t seem to find it…..at first.
My eyes come to rest on Noah’s aide. She turns to her right, and there off to the side of the group, is my sweet little boy. I feel tears start to well up. He is standing alone, halfway into the speech therapist’s office,. He is staring fixatedly at the fluorescent light in the ceiling. He doesn’t even seem to notice that I have entered the room, but his little “friends” have. Almost in unison, cries of “Noah! Your mommy’s here! Noah!” rise up from the line of 3-year-olds. Still Noah doesn’t seem to notice. Finally, his aide kneels down and touches Noah on the shoulder. She speaks to him and after a few seconds he looks up. “Mama! You’re here!” he cries and comes running to me. I pick him up and squeeze him for all that I am worth. He pulls away, looks at me with those beautiful eyes and says, “I need to go home.” As new tears spring to my eyes, I reply “Okay, Noni. We’re going home.”
