The Little Princess and I are up at hospital once again for a day of neuropsychological assessment. I hope we pass. If you don't hear from us again, please assume we have failed and been shut into some minor ward of the West Wing until we have a more normal psychological profile.
Actually, scrub that. We've already failed. What should be a solo assessment with me enjoying a peacefully tedious hour or so in the waiting room has, instead, become a painful hour anchored to an office chair as a small child wriggles on my lap. I am, officially, deaf, blind and mute; part of the furniture and providing the security blanket which will enable tLP to concentrate on the testing rather than worrying where I have gone and whether I will come back.
I am, in practice, not quite so blind or deaf. And am filing my own internal report, full of edifying snippets such as "ooh she likes reciting numbers" and "hmm she doesn't know the easy way to group things, does she?"
Biting my tongue not to rephrase questions in a way she will better understand. I am unable to bite my tongue when her answer to "what does brave mean?" is interpreted as "you put your hand in your belt" rather than "you pull your hand tube out."
Turns out, no surprises, she's not so hot at mental arithmetic. She goes a very long way round the houses to find the right answer to fairly straightforwards questions. And she concentrates far better when her hand strays to touch mine, staying connected in order to let her mind roam.
I wonder what the report will show