His IFSP was wonderful.
Not often you get to hear a parent say that, but hey - the team is united in its appreciation of his progress (steady, obvious and amazing) and in its approach (everyone arrived at similar goals BEFORE talking with one another), and I would not trade any of them. Having worked in fields and positions requiring numerous team meetings, and having therefore seen first-hand what a NON-functional team looks like, I am acutely aware of the rarity and value of this confluence of personality and profession, and the fact that they all obviously adore him doesn't hurt either.
Once we got over how just super-duper fabulous we all are, together and individually (it was quite the attaboyfest for a while there), we moved on to the Big Question of What Next. I'll spare you the backing-and-forthing, since it was all speculative, and get right to it; we finally decided that he would be best served by continuing to stay at home, upping the services he receives from each therapist. Amusingly, I went into the meeting thinking I was open-minded to both the at-home and the center-based therapy approaches, and genuinely seeking to hear arguments for both approaches so I could THEN come to a decision, but since I wanted to jump and down and yell "SQUEEEEEE!!!" each time someone advocated for staying at home, we know the truth.
A number of excellent other items were brought to my attention, as well. For instance, I found out that even when he ages out of Early Intervention and into the welcoming arms (hush, work with me here) of the school district, he does NOT, in fact, have to go to a preschool someplace, at age 3, to receive services. AND many of our current therapists would wind up being his service providers here if we chose to continue keeping him home. AND we could request the others. So.. yay, yay, and YAY!
Meanwhile, Mr. Boy is now shape- and color-sorting like a pro (is there an Olympic event for this?) and babbling up a storm with all kinds of new sounds ("k", "ch", "t") AND...
.. are you ready?...
said "Dada" finally, much to Daddy's infinite delight :)
said "diaper on" ("die-poo ohn") as a I changed him... and nearly wet himself (and me; the diaper in question was still open at the time) laughing when I repeated it at him wonderingly.