Tomorrow morning, the boys are being evaluated to see if they qualify for speech therapy services. This isn't the first time they've been evaluated for speech issues, but I'm pretty sure it will be the first time they actually qualify.
I'm not gonna lie. I'm feeling a little nervous. A little guilty. And a whole lotta bummed-out-ness. (Note to Self: Do not use the term "bummed-out-ness" around the speech therapist.)
I actually thought the boys' speech had been improving immensely lately, but their preschool teachers are having a heck of a time understanding them. And apparently bringing Ashley in from the classroom down the hallway to translate is not the most feasible idea. Which we did suggest, considering Ashley can understand absolutely everything that they say. It's uncanny. Or else it's just that she has a limited vocabulary, and therefore doesn't need to cycle through millions of words like the rest of us when trying to figure out what the hell the boys are talking about. But I prefer to think it's uncanny. (Note to Self: Make sure to use the word "uncanny" around the speech therapist. It sounds smart.)
So it's off to the speech therapist we go. On the one hand, I hope they qualify, because jeesh it would be nice if more than three people in the world could understand them. On the other hand, I hope they don't qualify, because they're my babies!!! I feel like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hy'ell No My Baby Don't Need No Speech Therapy.
But I guess it's good that we're at least getting started on the process, wherever it may take us. Wish us luck! And pray that the speech therapist has a good sense of humor.