Wednesday, March 19, 2014

The experiment begins

Because the psychiatrist, who'd meant for us to be using the generic medication all along, was nice enough to call the pharmacy and say so. The medication may not work, but at least we won't go broke finding out.

He's only been on it for a couple of days. He's a bit extra tired, but that was supposed to happen. As for any improvements ... hard to say. He's still not listening at school, and not completing his work. He had a full-on meltdown the other day, in the middle of a birthday party, in front of the other moms, because I wouldn't buy him a toy. I played it off as, "Yeah, he's tired," as I tried to peel him off the floor, just because it's easier than saying, "Yeah, he does this a lot, he has utterly no emotional coping skills, the slightest bother or disappointment makes him collapse and he's not really a brat, even though he's coming off like one right now. So anyway, what were you saying about the weather?"

Amazingly other people never seem too bothered by the meltdowns. I don't see how that lasts, though. He just looks too old to be having them.

I think we have to give the medication a few weeks to see if it makes a difference. And if not, I suppose we see what's behind Door #3, and whether it comes in a generic version.

He did score really well on some sort of reading assessment test the other day. So, there's that.

Also, he had fun over the weekend at our joint pre-birthday hibachi celebration with friends (great idea, M.), and apparently also at the St. Patrick's Day parties at school. I don't quite get the St. Patrick's Day parties. Mainly because 1. we're not Irish, 2. the holiday as celebrated in America has very little to do with the actual holiday and 3. still not Irish. Although I do like soda bread.

But he came home talking about the leprechaun that snuck into the classrooms and did mischief, or something like that, and I sincerely hope we're not expected to keep up that whole business at home, because keeping track of Santa's sled and remembering the cookies and milk and the carrots for the reindeer is about all I can handle. Jewish holidays never involve invisible magical creatures, unless you count the prophet Elijah at Passover, and all you have to do for him is leave out a cup of wine. Which he never drinks, because, I'm guessing, he doesn't like Manischewitz wine either.

Our next event will be kiddo's official birthday party, for which he has so far wanted a Lego cake, a Minecraft cake and possibly a Paw Patrol cake, unless that was kiddette, who has been placing her pre-order way too far in advance. Such indecision. Just imagine if I were ambitious enough to make the cake myself. (Not a chance.)

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