The Psychological assessment happened; the test that tells me that my girl is not okay. The test that tells me she cannot compete with her peers. The test that tells me that cognitively she is well behind where she 'should' be. I thought I would cry. I thought I would write about how unfair the system of comparing our Kate to one hundred 'so-called' average children would be.
The truth is, I don't care. It didn't hurt me in the least.
Kate walked into that assessment the same kick ass little girl ninja she was when she walked out. In her unique mind she spent hours playing with a 'friend'. She doesn't know the words 'test' or 'normal' or any such shit. Alex and I giggled when the doctor asked her questions that were well beyond her reach. Not in a cruel way, you see, but in a, 'you don't know our Kate' way. Alex and I talked about how phenomenal she is in so many areas. In fact, she'll make you smile immediately upon seeing her but she won't be able to tell you what she did today. She'll make you feel like a rock star each time you walk into a room but she won't be able to tell you the colour of a banana. She'll make you feel adored but she isn't quite sure how to hold a pencil.
What's more important? We think we know. We think Kate knows. We hope you know.
Happy Mail to:
27 Wellington Row
Saint John, NB
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Grace and Kate's mom. (Shanell)