I have a meeting with the early interventionist and child psychologist tonight. It's to check his progress, and I also want to spend time talking about the diagnosis process I am starting next Thursday. I'm always nervous about these meetings; the butterflies are sure flying around in my stomach. The last meeting went well. My son is making advances, but he still has a way to go.

I called the early interventionist and asked her to bring copies of all the evaluations they have done on my son so far. I figured this may help with the diagnosis process. I am still apprehensive, but I know it's the right thing to do. Anything to help my son is the right thing to do. Any diagnosis that comes back makes him no less my son, who really needs me right now. I will always be there for him, no matter what, and I tell him this. I don't know if he can understand, but I still tell him this and how much I love him and how much joy he brings into my life. I am so proud of him.

On a lighter note, I think my son kicked me out of his room last night. My wife and I had just put him to bed, and I was kneeling by his bed, kissing him good night. He did hug me, but then he kind of pushed me away and said, "Daddy go bye bye." I took it as his request for me to go, so I left. As the name for the old television show says, "Kids say the darndest things"!