Sesame Street has a muppet on the spectrum. We can order gluten-free pizza from almost any joint in Chicago. We are no longer drowning in the alphabet soup of ABA, IEP, and LMNOP.
The world has stopped spinning at a break neck speed that was hellishly long nights and even tougher mornings when we were “doing public school”. I’m not gonna lie, homeschool is a lot like childbirth, every day both beautiful and impossible, and somehow, by the grace of God, you just get through it.
We are living slowly, day to day, taking the time to sleep. Time to nature walk. Time to reconnect to each other.
Time that was lost and eaten and spit up by the demands you think your child needs: tons of school and therapy and run here and there.
The answer was there all along for us.
It was here.
Some mornings are perfect. Some mornings I think I must be totally insane to do this: homeschool. But here I am.
I am doing it.
We are doing it.
He’s sitting, working, leaping, laughing.
The words continue to grow from Moose each day. Today he identified action verbs. He fell entraced with Montessori cylinders. He mastered the Pink Tower from Montessori. He purposely made mistakes and checked my response. He made toast today. Toast! Shout it from the rooftops!
It’s working. I see the twinkle and light come back in his eyes.
I remember some school officials telling me not to bother having my son learn sounds, and write: because he’s not ready.
Ready or not, here we come. I will wake every day, armed with all that God has given me, and some coffee and give it my all.
He is learning. Maybe not at the pace you expect in the common-core ladened NT world.
But at his pace.