Roo's high, and it's working for him. After about 2 weeks on "amphetamine salts," a dissolving version of Adderall (chocolate-milk-soluble being the one form of oral medication that won't ignite one of Roo's spontaneous puking events), the mania of Roo's pronounced ADHD is slowly coming under control. Now instead of whack-a-doodle, self-abusive phrases uttered in bug-eyed, jittery discomfort--including the following:
~"Mom, I belong in the recycling bin! Cycle me!"
~"Go away! I am closed for the day!"
~"Just throw me away! I'm stupid!"
--Roo has returned to a more calm, contemplative weirdo:
~"Mom, what zackly means the difference between a 'battle' and a 'fight,' and which one best for killin' dragons?"
~"I goin' to my room to read deez books here about fellyentologists and stuff."
~"Dat's awright, Mom. Tovi can beat me up if he wants to. It's fine."
Treating Roo's clinical ants-in-the-pants has been a grueling 2 years of trial and error, sad little forays into both alternative therapies and the pediatric Valley of the Dolls, sleepless nights and days akin to living inside a human pinball machine. We are happy to see our little reverse speed-sniffer is now only moving slightly faster than light, and able to focus more intently on the important things in life.