Maybe I didn’t want to admit it out loud, but my niggling internal voices were getting stronger

“SO

when did this all start?” She sat at her desk, pen poised, looking as though she knew all the answers but was deigning me the honor of the questions.

When did all what start?? Exactly which symptom was she referring to? I stared at the neurologist, trying to figure out how to begin. Did she want to know about pregnancy and birth? Or the fact that Chezky turned over from his stomach to back at four days old?

“Why are you here?” she interrupted my thoughts. Her voice sounded exasperated, as if she knew exactly why I was here, but wanted me to connect the dots myself.

But I knew why I was there. I had the whole speech prepared in my head. I’d been gearing up for this appointment for half a year, since Chezky had started Pre-1A. The first couple weeks of school had gone fine, but then right after Yom Tov when the learning started intensifying, things started unraveling.

I didn’t get it. Chezky was really smart. He had picked up alef-beis in no time at four years old. Why did the sight of nekudos completely derail him? And he wasn’t even consistent. Sometimes he’d finish his homework in ten seconds flat, and other times he’d stare at the page as if it were Greek.

Then there were his constant movements. Fidgeting, dancing, skipping, jumping, banging… could it be…? Maybe I didn’t want to admit it out loud, but my niggling internal voices were getting stronger. I think I knew deep down that Chezky was ADHD and — this was a biggie for me — could probably benefit from Ritalin. I hated the idea of medication. But as the school year progressed, I couldn’t fathom Chezky succeeding in first grade.