Our county's Early Intervention department called this morning. Initial intake assessment will be done on August 8th at 9 am. The two-hour one, the important one, will probably be done the next day.
FYI to those of y'all using this blog to gauge your own child and the appropriate level of concern: After listening to our worries and the extent of Noah's vocabulary, they originally told us the big evaluation probably couldn't be done until the end of August or even the beginning of September. But once we told them about how Noah loses words (plane/light/fan all turning back into "nah" after awhile, for example, while other words vanish all together), they ever-so-suddenly bumped him up to the front of the line and gave us the August 9th slot.
I have no idea what that means, if anything. And I don't really have much else to say today. I read the new Harry Potter. I got my hair cut. We bought some ice cream cones and ate them while Noah splashed in a fountain.
Jason turned to me and said, "You know what? I'm not worried about him anymore. I think he's going to be just fine."
"I agree," I said. "I'm not even thinking about it much anymore."
But still. It felt really, really great to get that phone call this morning.