A Very Important Member of Our Village

This was our last DT session with Jill, and it was as if The Princess understood that from the start. My little girl was all about Miss Jill today...engaging her with eye contact, constant smiles, angelic giggles, and all-over good cheer.

Miss Jill changes the texture bin between visits, and this time it was Easter grass. The Princess. Loved it. Hidden among the grass was a Mr. Potato Head body and all of the various parts needed to turn him into the Easter Bunny, some of which were hidden inside plastic eggs. The Princess gleefully threw the grass aside in search of each treasure, presenting the piece to Jill and putting it in its rightful place upon instruction. She did the entire Mr. Potato Head with only verbal coaching. Did you hear me? I said only verbal coaching.

This little girl has come so far in the last few months since we decided to stop listening to the old ST. Since she started OT and DT, and switched ST's, there are moments in which I actually forget there's anything wrong. I know it's terrible to say that The Princess's autism is "something wrong," but when you get right down to it, it just is. Sure, it's a part of who she is, and I wouldn't change anything about my little girl for the world. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that there are times when I forget to hover, forget to worry, forget to put my guard up between her and the rest of the world.

Because of these people, she's making it. Little by little, she's making it.

And because of the stupid rules of these programs, we're losing Miss Jill as a therapist. If I could afford it, I'd have her keep coming. Who knows...maybe we'll be able to do it in the future. She has been the singlemost valuable resource for me, and she's helped The Princess so much...I just hate to see her go.

When we were wrapping up our time today, Miss Jill gave The Princess a birthday present. It was just a couple of plastic Easter eggs and a pinwheel, but the fact that she thought to do anything at all brought a tear to my eye.

Jill looked at The Princess and asked if she could have a hug. My little girl stopped what she was doing, looked directly at Miss Jill, and made a beeline for her with those little arms outstretched in the universal sign for "pick me up." Jill stood there in my living room for perhaps a full minute, hugging my daughter and saying goodbye. The first time she let up on the pressure, The Princess pulled her back in. The second time, my sweet little girl gave her a big, fat, sloppy kiss right on the lips.

Miss Jill, you've helped us - all of us - more than you could possibly ever know. Thank you for taking the time to get through to my daughter, and for helping me to navigate this scary new world. We may not be able to continue services, but you are - now and forever - a very important member of our village.