Soul Searching

Spent the morning crying.

Got his first Concerta down him – and he is different. We were watching Rachael Ray (we don’t usually watch this show – but I had ABC on this morning – and when the television started it was on and it was about an inner city school culinary program so I stayed there).

One of the young men on the program said when his grandfather got ill things went from bad to worse. Andrew said, “that’s me”. “I go from bad to worse.” He had tears in his eyes. He said, “I treat Timmy bad and you bad and I’m no good.” I started crying. He was crying. He is SIX.

I reassured him that he is a wonderful, sweet, smart boy and that we are working on the problems. He is so scared that he won’t “get Timmy back”. Oh my God, how can a broken heart keep breaking?

We talked for about an hour. I notice a difference already with the medication.

“Mommy, why do parents love their children?”

“Andrew, why do you love me?”

“I just do.”

“Me, too.”

“Will you always love me?”

“Forever.”

“Can I grow a beard?”