A coke and a smile? That ad spoke words of wisdom.

Many people have suggested I give Bean caffeine. "It can have the opposite effect on children with ADHD," they all said. I wasn't ever willing to take that risk, though. I was pretty sure I would never survive a day with Bean should it NOT have the opposite effect. I blew off the advice, until this weekend.

I rarely have soft drinks at the house, but we had a leftover bottle of coke from a party. The Dad and I debated back and forth the better part of Saturday morning, before finally deciding to go for it.

We imagined it would go something like this.

Instead, within minutes Bean had stopped her usual baby talk, flapping around, and throwing herself on the floor at the word "no".

Was it a coincidence? Could it have really worked? Have I been paying for medication, when I could have been buying cans of coke?

After observing her all day Saturday, we declared Saturday to be the best day EVER. On Sunday, I got a little more courageous. Coke and NO ADHD medication. I was sure Sunday would be the day the world fell apart and the sky caved in. Instead, Sunday was possibly better than Saturday.

Bean carried on conversations. She did not once overreact. The constant bickering with Monkey? Never happened. Not once did she run circles through the house or flap around uncontrollably. She looked like Bean. She sounded like Bean. But she acted like the Bean we knew four years ago.

We knew the true test would be a school morning, though. For breakfast Bean had her usual organic cereal with organic milk. Although, today it was served with a glass of coke.

It was magical. With sparkle and glitter. And possibly even rainbows. And angels singing. Bean was dressed and ready to go in less than fifteen minutes with NO argument.

Even if she was wearing an Easter dress with snow boots.

Moral of the story? Coke is my favorite. I love Coke. Coke is our friend. Coke makes life better. And shiny.

Bean's Pretty Dress

I would really appreciate it if people would quit complimenting Bean. I know, it sounds like a strange request, but it's not. See, when you compliment Bean, she really, really takes it to heart. And then she takes it, and twists it into "I am never taking this dress off, because it is obviously the source of my prettiness."

Finding My Inner Mexican.

It has been said that some Deaf children believe that when they grow up they will be able to hear. The theory behind this is they may be exposed to other Deaf children in school, but most of the adults they come in contact with can hear. Hearing, speech, and language all become linked to physical attributes.

This past weekend, The Mom and The Dad spent some kid free time. Most of it outside at a festival. As a result, The Mom went from pale and pasty

to tan.

When Monkey and Bean returned home, Monkey immediately noticed.

Just like growing up makes you hear, getting a tan unlocks your inner Mexican.

What sound?

This week Bean had her check-in with her neurologist. These appointments with specialists always go one of two ways. The specialist either tells you how horrible your child is doing or they completely don't see the behavior you want them to. It is like taking your car into the shop because it is making that sound, and it won't make it for the mechanic.

Bean has been on several different ADHD medications. Some things, like her sleep habits and attention span, have improved (and by improved, I don't mean perfect) with this newest medication. However, the hyperactivity is still there. A lot. Yet it never fails that as soon as the doctor walks in the door, Bean turns into calm, angel child.

Hoarding Bean

I watch Hoarders partially out of fascination and partially with trepidation. I am slightly scared Bean is going to grow up to become a hoarder. My reasoning is simple.

A. She has the messiest room ever.

B. She develops an emotional attachment to inanimate objects. Objects like paper scraps and trash.

Mom. Mom. Mommommommommom.

I am pretty sure my kids live to torment me. Their weapon of choice? The word, "Mom."

Burrito Jalapeno.

Summer is approaching. We've been thinking about another vacation. Last year's trip went pretty smoothly. Except when Bean almost got me thrown in Mexican jail.

Roughly Translated: Hello. Did you just kick that statue made entirely of indestructible stone? You must come with us until we ascertain the monetary value of the damage.

Translated: This is the only Spanish I know. While usually a very useful sentence at a Mexican resort, I am not sure it is getting across my exact sentiment at this moment. What I mean to convey to you is, please do not lock us in jail. Also, we are sorry she kicked your gigantic rock.

Translated: We will let you go. But we are watching that one.