That’s my boy all right…

We had Captain Adventure’s semi-annual IEP meeting today. We weren’t particularly surprised by anything they had to say about him; we’ve actually had very good communication with his teacher the entire year, so it was more about making casual conversations and emails “official.”

He’s very good at his school work. In some areas, he’s actually way ahead of the “average” kindergarten graduate. He is happy to do the work, too, and seems to enjoy it.

He’s come a long way with his social skills, too. He’s still hardly a social butterfly, tends to keep to himself and is very uncertain and hesitant when it comes to interacting with his peers, but he’s gotten a lot better about talking to adults and speaking up in class.

They were really focusing on the positive, because they want to shift him back over to the district program instead of keeping him in the county – getting him closer to a mainstream environment.

So they were talking up how ready he was, and how well he did at this and that and the other, and how he had scored a perfect score on his kindergarten exit exams (same test they give mainstream kids, by the way) (not that I’m boasting or anything) (well…maybe just a little boasting…), and how well he’d been doing with his potty training.

Oh yes. We spent quite a bit of time discussing that. See, he absolutely cannot go back to district unless he is potty trained. District does not do diapers, people. District requires that the child can be relied upon to tend to calls of nature all by his little self, without much in the way of reminding, nagging, or leading by the hand, verbal commands all the way through the procedure, and assistance washing hands afterward.

I think they might actually faint dead away if they found themselves having to deal with {gasp!} wet pants. (I’m fairly certain that’s not literally true, but this is the impression being given.)

Shortly before we broke up our meeting, they asked if we wanted our Captain to take the bus to his sitter’s house, or if we wanted to take him with us. And we said we’d just go ahead and take him, since it was already 4:00 and we had basically told our coworkers we’d be taking the entire second half of the day off anyway.

So they brought him into our meeting. He was surprised to see us there. “What the heck?” he said in his Funny Guy voice. “Dere’s da mom-meh and da dah-dee hear-ya?”

He was awfully patient while we were wrapping up our meeting…but as we were getting up to go and I was asking him if he wanted a snack, he started telling me I was “out of time.”

It took me a long time to realize he was talking about a need to go to the potty. Finally, giving me a look that clearly said he despaired of ever teaching me anything, he said, “You run out of de time, and den I haf de pee down my pants.”

You have the…oh, look, so you do…

Now, I know it was entirely wrong of me and all, but I almost laughed myself to death. Here his teachers were, assuring me that he was for all intents and purposes potty trained, hooray, and we could with confidence! send him on to the pee-makes-me-faint hothouse flowers back here in our home district…and he’s standing there without a care in the world in soaked underpants, pants, socks and shoes.

That’s my boy all right.

Go ahead. Try to say he is this, or that. Tell us how “it is” with him. Grab your label machine and try to stick one on him.

He will smile his charming little smile, and his little eyes will twinkle, and he will promptly do exactly what you just said he couldn’t or wouldn’t.

I love you, my quirky little man.

Stubborn steaks and all.