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The Saga Continues: wow....just wow. :(
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<blockquote data-quote="BusynMember" data-source="post: 644681" data-attributes="member: 1550"><p>Lil, I wasn't around little kids either before I had 37. My mother couldn't trust me to take care of my younger siblings as I was way too immature. So 37s diaper was the first one I changed.</p><p></p><p>After being positively delightful for one year (he smiled at everyone and did everything early), he started showing his "difficult" side when I started taking him to play dates. Somebody always got hurt, and it wasn't him. He was really a mean kid. He didn't even have tantrums. He was just mean and it was beyond embarassing to me as well as disturbing.</p><p></p><p>There was no way I could have missed that he was "different." None. Nada. Even if I had been an alien from another planet that didn't have humans, I would have known by the shocked faces of the other mothers. Still, I didn't know what to do about it and nobody took me seriously (called him spoiled) and he started therapy at eight, but quit when he got old enough to do so.</p><p></p><p>He made the psychiatric hospital list at age twelve, but I quickly rescued him out of there. Looking back, I didn't want to think it was as bad as it was. I wouldn't have taken him out if I'd really been honest with myself. He HAS gotten on-and-off better, depending upon whether or not he is under stress. I am still not sure what was going on with him beside extreme anxiety disorder. "It" doesn't have a name beyond that one.</p><p></p><p>(Sorry for the interruption, guys. I'll go back into hiding)</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BusynMember, post: 644681, member: 1550"] Lil, I wasn't around little kids either before I had 37. My mother couldn't trust me to take care of my younger siblings as I was way too immature. So 37s diaper was the first one I changed. After being positively delightful for one year (he smiled at everyone and did everything early), he started showing his "difficult" side when I started taking him to play dates. Somebody always got hurt, and it wasn't him. He was really a mean kid. He didn't even have tantrums. He was just mean and it was beyond embarassing to me as well as disturbing. There was no way I could have missed that he was "different." None. Nada. Even if I had been an alien from another planet that didn't have humans, I would have known by the shocked faces of the other mothers. Still, I didn't know what to do about it and nobody took me seriously (called him spoiled) and he started therapy at eight, but quit when he got old enough to do so. He made the psychiatric hospital list at age twelve, but I quickly rescued him out of there. Looking back, I didn't want to think it was as bad as it was. I wouldn't have taken him out if I'd really been honest with myself. He HAS gotten on-and-off better, depending upon whether or not he is under stress. I am still not sure what was going on with him beside extreme anxiety disorder. "It" doesn't have a name beyond that one. (Sorry for the interruption, guys. I'll go back into hiding) [/QUOTE]
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