I want to write on my blog every day, I really do. But you see, every afternoon my sweet, agreeable seven-year-old morphs into a whining, crying, ball of a hot mess screeching "I CAN'T WANT IT!" when I suggest things like taking a shower or skipping thirds on snack. He's like one of those machines at the tennis courts that just shoots out balls, except his projectiles are Hot Wheels and household furniture. By the time I throw him into bed at night, I'm toast.
I started giving him a low dose of fast-acting Ritalin when I get home from work at 2:30, and it seems to help some, but now he's melting down right before bed. I'm thinking we need to start the brushing protocol again, or just continue to hang on for dear life until school starts and he hopefully returns to normal.
We also went to see the pediatric gastroenterologist, or as I like to say, the stomach doctor. He took Punkin off of one medication and doubled the other one. We've been puke free for a week!