Oh, She Speaks And Speaks And Speaks And Speaks And Speaks

Earlier this week, I took Mia to her preschool screening for Parents as Teachers. I almost didn't take her because my mind had a very large fart that morning, preventing me from remembering the appointment. I'll try not to analyze the psychology behind why I forgot about an appointment to get her ready for preschool, except to say DUH. I don't want her to be grown up enough for preschool yet. Am I Freudian or what?

We hurried as much as a two toddlers (holy cow...when did this happen?) and a sleep deprived mom are capable of hurrying, and made it to the screening offices a mere half hour later than planned. While Mia went off to take her tests, Lauren and I played in a school cafeteria full of toys. And by that I mean that she walked in huge circles, screaming just to hear her voice echoing off the cavernous walls. I'm fairly sure the teachers in the classrooms around us were wishing us nothing but blessings.

When they were done with the screening, we sat down to discuss Mia's development. For the most part, the results showed what I already knew:
a. She's a genius. Many of her 'scores' ranked as high as a 5 year old.
b. She gets easily frustrated when she has trouble with a task; ie - cutting with scissors.
c. She's a talker. Her language scores were phenomenal for her age.
d. She's a genius. It bears repeating twice. Even if genius wasn't the exact word they used. But I do like to type it, so genius genius genius and genius. Genius.

I was pleased that somebody else noticed the talker bit. Usually, Mia can be kind of shy. Not in a genuinely timid way, but in more of an I'm-cuter-if-I-play-it-coy-and-dramatic way. For instance, several times over the past few months I've heard her say to someone "I'm just a little shy," as she tilts her head down, casts her eyes up from underneath fluttering lashes, and twirls herself around on pointed toes. If that's not a sign of impending drama, I don't know what is.

Apparently, she was comfortable enough with our parent educator (the teacher who administered the screening) to drop the fancy shyness and speak freely. As I am so often overcome by the amazing amount of words spewing out of Mia's tiny mouth, I recognized the look on the teacher's face as she told me about my daughter's language development. It was the look that says, "oh, honey...you will never know silence again...here's twenty thousand dollars, because you deserve it."

The appointment went really well, and I feel good about knowing some areas that Mia needs help with. We'll be practicing with those child-proof scissors as soon as I can remember to get my hands on some. I'm assuming my brain will be engaged in another very large fart when it comes time to buy the scissors, too. In fact, I'm counting on it.

She won't be accepted into any self-respecting preschool if she can't work the scissors, right?

And then she'll have to stay home with me, playing with My Little Ponies and curling up in my lap for story-time.

Right?