Today we have our first visit to a local school (our daughter’s) to talk about Boo and whether they could accommodate him or not when he starts reception in two years time.
Boo is two. Yep: two.
This feels wrong. He is so young. But we have been asked to start this process now, because we live in a LA that says in hushed tones and not to be repeated words, ‘we just don’t have schools for kids like him here’. ‘They might have to build stuff for him.’ ‘It’s going to take time to work out what to do with him.’ My lovely little boy is reduced to the status of a problem in a matter of sentence.
Today, I wish my crystal ball was working, so when the inevitable questions arise – will he be able to hold a pen, walk, or use the toilet independently – I will know for sure what to say. (I think I know, but can’t say for definite.)
Today I feel a little bit sick because I know this school, a lovely, 3 minutes away, small, modern flat-level, high-achieving, nurturing school is not right for him. I know we are just playing a game. Having to look at schools so we can say to an unsympathetic LA that will likely try to push us to conclusions we don’t agree with, ‘No: we looked there. It isn’t right for him.’
But where is right? Are we chasing something that doesn’t exist?
Increasingly our options seem to be out of county. That involves travel for Boo and tribunals for us. Battles I can’t face. Not today anyway.
Today, just today, I would like to just be able to exist in the now. Not have to think about the past or worry about the future.
I wish today was tomorrow. And then it would be done. Until the next visit, that is.