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Fast forward many years to the adult that an ADHD child has become and then judge. Better yet, make it your own child. I don't think the problem lies with the diagnosis. No, it is the life that follows the labeling or lack thereof. Following is a letter I wrote last night to my 21 year old son, who sits in jail awaiting sentencing for several felonies, all of which are related to his drug addiction. Oh, by the way, that is a very common side effect of ADHD, as well as depression and suicide.

Dear Eric,

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I wonder how 21 years on this planet have gotten you and me to this point.

Many times I have started and then stopped a letter to you. It is my nature to give you something that will make a difference, maybe some insight you have never heard before, perhaps a bit of advice that will make everything click for you. After a minute or two, I always realize that it is not me who can help you.

I suppose I am presumptuous to think that you feel like you even need help. Do you? That is all a matter of opinion and I think it is only your opinion that counts or will even make a difference. With that said, I want to give you some thoughts of mine.

Last night, the kids and I watched an old VHS tape. It was you as a baby. Part of it was filmed at your Uncle Manny's house, part in Pacific Grove and the last section was at your Uncle's barber shop, where you received your first hair cut. Mikala and Nick thought you were "so cute" and everyone in the movie was doting on this adorable little baby boy. We all competed for your attention and you did whatever you pleased . A seven month old baby can do little wrong.

I also thought about some of our history together-just you and me. I used to take you for long walks on the bike trail and also picture you pedaling furiously on that little red bike with training wheels, as I jogged with Jeff in his big stroller. We used to "Talk about sings," as you would say and the subjects would range from the stars in the sky over to why you should eat something other than grilled cheese and fries.

As you got older and started school, much changed with us. I married Tamara, your mom married Steve and there was much turmoil and friction with the blended family situations. You and I talked less and I probably "ran away from home" a few times, if only in thought. It seems that the adult problems found their way in to your psyche and we never paid attention to it.

One thing that really bothers me is this. You were

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