The G-Word?

Okay, I admit it, we're taking our 5 1/2 year-old to therapy. This isn't therapy like a box of tissues and "family of origin" issues (at least I would hope not yet). So far the therapist has met with hubby and I once, Charlie once, and me twice. Okay, I see where this is going.

First of all, since he was about 2 1/2 Charlie has had "behavioral issues." He's defiant, sometimes angry, contrary and grumpy. Sound familiar? Sounds like his mom! Anyway, the whole frustration came to a head in October when I went to his parent/teacher conference (my husband was out of town). Every conference we've ever had we have braced ourselves for the worst, expecting Charlie to be as much of a brat at school as he is at home. So we'd go into the conference and they'd tell us how great Charlie is, what a good listener, well-behaved. We'd look at each other like "Are we all talking about the same kid here?" The experts say as much trouble as your kid is at home, if he behaves at school, you're doing something right because he has developed a sense of comfort at home but has also learned the boundaries.

So in October I go into his first Pre-K parent/teacher conference. Our frustration with Charlie had been mounting since school had ended the year before, but I had the memory of the other conferences to soothe me. "He's fine, just a rebel like his mom." I mentioned to the teacher that we had been having trouble at home with Charlie and she confirmed that they had some of the same issues at school. I got a little worried. "Well," I said, fishing for some sort of reassurance, "we have been thinking of getting some professional help." The reassurance did not come. "I think that would be a good idea," was her response.

So, we are getting the professional help, sort of. To the tune of $160/hour, the therapist gave me the run-down of the standard parenting tricks. Time-out, taking away privileges, sticker charts, the whole nine. Finally, yesterday, after her fourth little suggestion I had to stop her. "I'm not trying to poo-poo everything you are saying," I said. "It's just that my husband and I are very educated people. We've read the parenting books. The standard fare does not work with this kid. If it did, we wouldn't be here." We agreed that my husband and I would return together the following week. By then the questionnaires would be returned from the teachers. We could go from there.

As I was leaving, I told the therapist I was confused (not really, as I mentioned, I see where this is going). She met with Charlie once. For 45 minutes they played chess with army guys. She was able to ask a few questions, and actually get a few answers before he said "Can we stop talking about this, please?" How could she possibly see what's wrong with Charlie?

Let me tell you where I think this is going...

1. It's all my fault. Hey, I watch Nanny 911. There are no bad kids, only bad parents. Mom needs to be more consistent, Mom needs to pay more attention to him, Mom needs to intervene when Charlie gets bored, Mom needs to get more involved at school.

2. Like me, my brothers, my sister and my husband, I think my child is brilliant. I think his brain is far more advanced than his emotions and he struggles for a balance. I think he's bored at school. I think he thinks we're all idiots. I think he does need more of my attention (please let me remind you, Dear Reader, that Charlie has two younger brothers), more consistency and most importantly, he needs challenged.

What's the g-word, you ask? Gifted. He fits the profile like a poster child. "Gifted." That term makes me laugh. I have learned that there have been tremendous strides in the understanding of the complicated needs of gifted kids since I flunked out of the "gifted" program when I was ten. You may think that this realization would bring us pride and hope. Nope. We are standing at the bottom of a tall mountain looking up. There will be summer homeschooling, enrichment classes, learning to help him deal with his anxiety, hand-picking of teachers. I am up to the challenge. But there is one thing that is going to turn our lives upside-down, but that will have to wait for the next installment when I breach the touchy subject (at least in my family) of Catholic School.