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When Eddie was a toddler, dinners were difficult. We sat down each night at 6:30 to meat, potatoes and a veggy, and Eddie's attempts to entertain us. We had a few seconds of peace before he started to bounce in his seat. Then he stood up. I served him, and he pushed his plate aside. He sat. He stood again. He sang. He called out to his brother. And then he ran around the table and his brother's highchair. I yelled at him to sit down and Eddie ignored me. My husband yelled. Eddie stood on his chair and sang another verse. He continued, up, down, sing, stand on his chair, and run around the table until Eddie tripped over his own feet.

We kind of knew he was hyperactive, but really didn't understand what that meant until Eddie's first grade teacher began to open our eyes. Apparently, he wandered the classroom and hallways when he got antsy. "You know," she said, "We used to tie kids like him to their desks." This startled me. If she tried, I knew he'd panic and hurt himself. Thankfully they finished the school year with Eddie unbound. Instead, she had him take an I.Q. test, and as we expected, he did exceptionally well. She also involved him in activities outside of what her other students were doing. He attended specialized training to better develop his fine and large motor skills as he lagged behind. He played basketball with a councilor, using up some of that energy while discussing how frustrated he was dealing with his classmates. On Arbor Day, he wrote a speech and delivered it to the rest of the school. Then he helped plant trees.

The next year his teacher told us he couldn't read. She didn't know what to do with him. He was hyperactive and we needed to have him diagnosed and medicated. I resisted. We purposely made our home into a drug free and alcohol free environment, and now suddenly this teacher wanted to dope him up so she didn't have to deal with him. After a lot of badgering from her and the principal I made an appointment with my pediatrician, Doctor G.

At our first appointment he explained that Ritalin was a stimulant and not a depressant. He explained that the part of the brain responsible for allowing one to attend to various tasks was not operating properly. Ritalin and other stimulants woke that part of the brain up. Instead of acting squirmy or scatterbrained, the patient could calm down and apply himself to the task at hand.

Dr. G. asked me to fill out a questionnaire. Does my child have sleeping problems? Yes. He quit napping at age 2.

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