Later— too late— we learned that ADHD comes with a higher risk of addictive behaviors
As told to S.T. Agam
It’s 11.45 a.m. I feel queasy. We’ve been on the road since 9:30 a.m. and I haven’t had breakfast.
The first time we took this trip because of Ari, he was just four weeks old. Our ninth child, he was the latest addition to a large, vibrant brood. I’d worried how he’d handle the Israeli summer heat, but his head had quickly dropped to his neck and he had slipped into baby dreamland.
With Ari snuggled in the crook of his elbow, my husband presented him to our Rebbe, who took one look at him and said: “You’ve brought a great neshamah down to the world…!”
Naftoli and I exchanged glances. I didn’t know what the Rebbe saw, but a rush of contentment washed over me.
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