ADHD Means Never Having To Say You’re Sorry

Doodicus, who is now 10, was diagnosed with ADHD when he was six. One of the most prominent symptoms of ADHD is impulse control.

Lacking impulse control means he has problems thinking clearly through the consequences to his actions, that he does… well, impulsively.

For his birthday, we gave him a Nintendo 3DS. Some may think it’s an elaborate gift, but electronic games are life-savers for us when we have to sit for somewhere for an extended period of time (two- three-hour car drives; dinner with in-laws; doctor appointments, etc.) because it’s the only thing that can keep him quietly distracted. For everyone involved, something like this gaming system can keep our sanity levels on an even keel. If you have an ADD or ADHD child, you know what I’m saying is true.

He’s been begging us to allow him to bring it to show to his friends at the daycare. I have repeatedly stood my ground and said no. In the past, he has actually snuck things to daycare and either lost them or had them damaged, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s not allowed to bring anything electronic with him to share.

However, this week, which he is off from school for winter vacation, he asked over and over again if he could bring his 3DS to show his friends before everyone was back in school. Tuesday night I finally caved with only one seemingly easy condition he would have to meet: exceptional behavior for two days straight. That meant no whining, no complaining, no crying, no fits of rages, no poor housekeeping, no arguing. His BEST behavior is what I was asking for.

And then I found out that of the four 3DS games he has received since his birthday, he had already “lost” two (I actually had one in my possession that I had found left carelessly on the floor a couple of days before). An additional condition was announced. He’d have to find the remaining game cartridge. You’d think I’d asked for the moon with the wailing and gnashing of teeth, albeit in a much more subdued manner considering our FIRST condition. As an incentive, Sparring Partner told him if he found the cartridge today (Wednesday), he could bring it as soon as Thursday to show his friends. With this new fire lit under his ass, Doodicus produced the “lost” cartridge within 10 minutes (it was under the couch).

Finally! With our reluctant blessings, he set aside what he was bringing to daycare tomorrow (Thursday) and got ready for bed. That’s when everything turned sour. I can’t say what he had done, but it was a breach of the housekeeping rules we have and it was something he had done already this morning; no more than 12 hours after my original condition of being on his BEST behavior for 48 hours. Eight of those twelve were spent asleep. So basically within an hour of waking up, he had blown it and then tried to hide it.

The deal of bringing his 3DS to daycare was completely off the table for both Thursday and/or Friday. In other words, we were back to square one and my original rule: no electronics to daycare.

We tried to explain how inability to show responsibility and consideration for the rules of our home is what blew it for him, but instead of listening and learning, all he could do was pound his head into his pillow and demand we give him a DIFFERENT punishment – an alternative. Not a word of apology or remorse was said. Why? Let’s look back at that whole impulse control thing. Normally, we avoid doing something wrong because we are able to think through the consequences to our actions. Doodicus does not…wait, no: He is INCAPABLE of thinking this way. He performs an action without a moment to consider the consequences. This then means that he feels no need to apologize or feel bad about his actions because in his head he’s done nothing wrong (if he thought he had or was going to do something wrong, he probably wouldn’t do it. Make sense?). Instead he just considers us cruel, unfair, and more and more commonly expressed in fits of rage, that we hate him.

The impulse control issues is probably one of the hardest things we deal with when it comes to the ADHD. It contributes to 90% of the day-to-day issues. When my husband is blowing his stack over something Doodicus has done, I have to remind him over and over again that our son just doesn’t have that edit button; that filter in his brain.

This all happened within an hour of me writing this out. In fact, I can hear Doodicus in his room muttering to himself in anger and disappointment (not with himself, but with us). Tomorrow we’ll have to be on high-alert for smuggled items in pockets, socks, shoes, underwear, coat, all of which he’s done before. Tomorrow I will hope that he’s learned something from all of this. And tomorrow I will worry that he may never.

Gift Tags

I am the laziest crafter out there. I can’t even call myself a “crafter” because if I can find someone to make it for me, that’s what I’d rather do, but then I’m so lazy it may be next to never by the time I make arrangements to have someone make it for me.

I saw some handmade gift tags on Pinterest but the photo wasn’t accurate with the description and then blah, blah, blah, I became annoyed and distracted. Sure, I’d love to have hand-glazed, ceramic gift tags, but seriously?? I have a life. In spite of what you might read on Facebook.

While at Hobby Lobby, I found a tub of Sculpt-It and it didn’t require mixing or baking so in my head, it was a win-win. I could invest $13 into an experiment and no one but me would know if it was a Big Fat Fail. Happily, they came out better than I expected and so I’ll pass on this lazy mom’s findings.

In addition to the Sculpt It, you’ll want some cookie cutters (or just make your shapes with a glass), rolling pin, straw, ribbon (or twine, which is what I used), wax paper and a surface to work on.

As you can see I used one of those flexible cutting boards, but I strongly recommend setting down a sheet of wax paper to work on to reduce the stickiness of the Sculpt It. I also used a couple of paint stir sticks to roll the clay down to a good thickness. If you are a regular baker, you won’t need a cheater like me.

The tub of Sculpt It has handy “tubes” ready to take out and work a little at a time. If while you are working it and dries a bit, just wet your hands and then worked the clay again introducing moisture gradually. I only had to do this a couple of times.

Here’s one tube of clay rolled out and I used a glass to get round ornament/tags. Not that I needed to include this photo, but it was there.

Here’s a batch of little hearts that I used the straw to punch holes in and then just some stamps to create the design. I might use these for Valentine’s Day as a small garland in my office and just thread some ribbon in and out of the holes.

This project is so easy and basically mess free, I let Aitch and Doodicus make some as well. Aitch’s favorite part was blowing the clay out of the straw.

Below is a photo of a completed ornament/tag on a package (I ‘shopped out our last name that was stamped in the main body of the ornament) by wrapping the twine around the package and then tieing on the tag.

Some things you should know about the clay: it shrinks, just a little, but if the hole you make is *JUST* the right size before it dries, it may be too small afterward. I’m also surprised with how strong and light-weight the final product is. Give it at least 24 hours to dry completely.

I had been able to make enough tags for what I needed this year so I made a few to experiment with including a round ornament with several holes on the circumference so I can weave some ribbon through the holes (if you do this, make sure to have an ODD number of holes!). I also tried “sewing” spaghetti pasta in one, but that didn’t thrill me. I suppose you could use a large needle and some yarn and sew it while they are still wet and if you didn’t like them, wad it up and roll it back out again. Maybe even add some food-coloring to a batch. However, that’s more work than I’m willing to put in to it. Another shape I thought about trying was a thin rectangle and then use them as just “everyday” tags and stamping “From Doodicus” or “From Aitch” on them to use throughout the year.

Easy, cheap, child-friendly, and cute.

Our Meeting with Dr Brain

It was a week ago that I told my mom that I had set up an appointment to see a neurologist, and how’d that go? Not so well.

Today, which is Monday, is my mom’s day to stay with the kids, but it was also the day of the appointment. I didn’t say anything when she first showed up, but left her and Aitch to do their thing and ran some errands (I’m normally at work, but had the day off). While gone, I psyched myself up to remind her. When I finally did, while she didn’t want to, she said, “If it will make YOU happy…” No, it wasn’t going to make me happy because I knew what it meant.

When Dr. Brain introduced himself and asked why she was there, she shrugged, mute. I then had to explain that there has been some memory lapses and that she repeats herself in her story-telling and questions. I felt like an ass; like I was somehow throwing my mom under the bus or at the least, complaining about her. I tried to explain that we were there to see if was indeed the normal progression of aging or if it was something else we should be aware of.

He then went into a series of questions that I initially thought were rudimentary in nature:

What is today’s date? The 11th. (It’s the 19th, and we had just signed at least four pages of paperwork that required both her signature and today’s date.)

What year is it? 1980. No, that’s not right. *long pause* I don’t know.

Who is the President? Kennedy! (answered almost too quickly and too enthusiastically) Wait, no…. *another long pause* I don’t know.

How many grandchildren do you have? 10. (she has 11)

There were several others including some simple calculations and where she lived. She struggled with the math problems (What is 100 minus seven?), but was able to answer what city, county, state and country she was in. He also had her draw something similar to a Venn diagram, but instead of circles, she was supposed to do hexagons, which were already drawn on the paper. He then asked her to write a sentence at the bottom of the page. She wrote: “Right [sic] a sentence on the bottom.” At least he laughed at that, but he did make her write an original sentence.

Afterwards, he took several seconds to review his notes, including several hash marks he had made in the margins. Her score was 23 out of 30, which he explained as he presented his opinion: beginnings of dementia, which usually means Alzheimer’s. He explained his scoring system and that he’s going to put her on a new medication. He told us what I had already known about the meds and that is they don’t make things better; they just help to keep things from getting significantly worse too soon.

In a year he will test her again (but yes, we will be following up with him much sooner). In a year, her score should be the same if she takes her meds regularly. Without the meds? She might only score a 19, maybe a 20, at the annual exam.

I could tell as I watched my mom’s expression while he described his findings and the medication that she was upset. Her face flushed and for a split second, she even teared up, but my mom, who is quite stoic, quickly reigned it all back in. Dr. Brain noticed it, too, and went on to explain that we were there to help make sure she stays as independent as she is now. She’s able to cook, clean, drive and basically look after herself and make choices for herself. The medication could potentially give her four more additional years before nursing home care may be required.

Dr. Brain was efficient and frank in his examination and delivery of his news, and yet he was still compassionate. It was hard to hear and I can’t imagine what it is was like to be in my mom’s shoes. She’s seen so many of her friends go down this path and never come back. Understandably, she was in a very subdued mood after the appointment and it was soon that she had to leave to head home. For me, I am also feeling deflated. Four years, even under the best of circumstances, is such a short time. My children will be building memories; my mother will lose them.

Your Insurance and You: As Told By Me

Did you know I got a job? Yep, way back in May. It’s a wonderful fit for me, but not unlike any other job, it has its moments where I’m panting “TGIF TGIF TGIF” by Thursday afternoon.

First of all I work for an o r @ l surgeon. I’m not just talking a fancy dentist, I’m talking maxillofacial surgeon, the peel-the-face-off-of-someone-to-put-their-bones-back-together-if-in-a-disfiguring-accident type of surgeon. But as exciting as that might sound, those cases are extremely rare around here. Generally speaking, the main thing we get to do around here is surgically remove teeth.

My responsibility is the handling of the insurance and finances, and in today’s insurance climate, it’s fraught with issues and policy holders are left either dumbfounded in confusion or boiling over in indignation.

First of all, I am going to preface this with a statement I have to tell clients every day: I don’t know what your insurance will cover or pay. Policy holders who get pissy about this really need to take a look in the mirror. If YOU have an insurance policy and YOU are paying the policy and YOU elect to take the coverage, then YOU are ultimately responsible for knowing what your insurance will pay and what they won’t. As a courtesy, I will verify coverage, remaining deductibles, coinsurance and even get a quote of benefits for you, but, and that’s a mighty big “But” (…I like big BUTTS and I cannot lie…) the information I obtain from YOUR insurance company and pass back to you is only as good as the representative I talk to on the phone at YOUR insurance company.

If you are referred to my boss for “0ral surgery”, that term does not always mean what you think it means. If you said “0ral surgery” to your medical insurance, that could be taken to mean to mean something as complicated as an osteotomy, which is where a surgeon breaks your face and realigns it. Then your insurance company may believe that it’s to give you a physically more appealing profile (like in a case of “weak jaw”) as an enhancement. OR, it could mean correcting a congenital defect or even a progressive defect in which the lower jaw is undersized or doesn’t grow at the same rate as the rest of the face.

On the other hand, 0ral surgery could mean the surgical removal of a tooth instead of simply extracting it with some fancy pliers.

And that’s why your medical insurance doesn’t normally cover 0ral surgery because they consider it dental. BIG TIP #1: To find out if your insurance will cover 0ral surgery, call and ask them: “Are there any benefits for the SURGICAL REMOVAL of a tooth?” Now they may ask you if it’s impacted or erupted. If you can see all of the tooth, you can pretty much assume it’s erupted. At that point, 90% of all insurance companies will tell you no, there are no benefits. If you are not happy with that answer, then just ask if there’s a difference in benefits depending on whether your tooth is erupted or impacted. That should help you in case you really can’t tell either way.

When it comes to your dental insurance, benefits for the surgical removal of a tooth is almost usually there. ALMOST. Same question to your insurance rep can be asked. BIG TIP#2: If they ask you if you have a code (which who the hell would know the code for the surgical removal of a tooth unless they actually work in a dental field?), here’s a safe bet: D7210 – surgical remove of an erupted tooth. There you go. You’re welcome.

The bigger problem with 0ral surgery is the anesthesia. We don’t use “gas” here so I’m not even going to go into that as I have no idea if dental insurance covers it or not. We use IV sedation or local anesthesia (the numbing shot to the mouth). Local anesthesia will be covered and is included in the surgery. Logically, what kind of sadist would ever surgically remove a tooth and NOT numb you?? Therefore, there shouldn’t be a separate charge for local.

As for IV Sedation, only a licensed professional can provide this service, so be advised. IV sedation, or “going to sleep” as it’s commonly referred to, is rarely ever considered “medically necessary”, so for those people who say “The tooth is infected and a friend of my cousin’s brother-in-law who works for a veterinarian told me it would be medically necessary for me to go to sleep!”, well your argument is moot.

With that being said, that doesn’t mean your dental insurance won’t cover it. Don’t walk into the surgeon’s office and announce, “I have to go to sleep or I’ll rip the door off the wall when the doctor touches me!” when all you are having done is taking out one abscessed, erupted tooth. You’ll get no sympathy from me or your insurance. Of course, we’ll go ahead and put you to sleep if that’s what you want, but I’ll warn you ahead of time your insurance isn’t going to pay for it and I’m going to collect the charges for it before they even take your blood pressure. If you seriously have a dental-phobia, then you should be willing and able to pay for the “luxury” of going to sleep. And if your insurance does indeed pay towards anesthesia? Well, alleluia! You have excellent benefits. Here’s your refund! BIG TIP #3: if you don’t have the finances to go to sleep, but you don’t like the sound you hear when someone is working on your teeth and mouth? Bring your MP3 player and plug in.

Here’s where things get complicated. Do you know what your Third Molars are? They are the wisdom teeth. The surgical removal of the wisdom teeth breaks all the rules when it comes to insurance benefits. Some medical insurance plans provide benefits specifically for wisdom teeth. Some dental insurance plans specifically exclude benefits for wisdom teeth. It is safe to assume to never assume that while you may know what insurance benefits you have and don’t have, that those benefits apply to those suckers. I don’t recommend calling just once, but twice, and to talk to two different representatives.

As I wrap things up, I would advise you to familiarize yourself with how your medical AND dental insurance may coordinate on benefits for 0ral surgery. I recently had this example: medical insurance only covered impacted wisdom teeth and the dental considered the procedure strictly a medical and had no benefits at all for the specific procedure. What happened was that the patient’s wisdom teeth were all erupted, so no benefits under the medical and none under the dental. All that insurance and no payment whatsoever…just sad. And then there’s the “no duplicate clause”: medical had benefits but the deductible was crazy high ($10,000) and not even close to being met. The claim was then sent to dental, but they had the “no dupe clause” and since medical already processed it, they denied. Again, all that insurance and not a dime was paid out.

Lastly, BIG TIP #4: look at your Explanation of Benefits (EOB) when you get it. Don’t wait until the doctor’s office sends you a statement for balance due and then get your panties in a bunch wondering what the balance is for and call the office and start chewing out the office staff claiming you don’t know what you’re being billed for. I repeat: YOUR insurance is YOUR insurance. I don’t pay the premiums, YOU do. If you want to know what your insurance paid and didn’t pay, call the phone number that came on your EOB and ask someone. And if you get a check with your EOB because your insurance company pays you directly and not the doctor, don’t be a tool and cash the check and spend it on outstanding bills and then not pay your doctor. You will get absolutely no sympathy when you call and say, “I got a check three weeks ago for $500 but I spent it on my cell-phone bill, cable and cigarettes and would like to make payments of $50 a month with you.” That just makes you douchey and a flake.

I’m sure I missed something equally important and as boring, but I have wanted to share this information for a while with you, the ‘net. After a decade of experience at the hospital and now this, I can safely say that only about 90% of policy holders understand the basics of their health insurance. It is complicated, but making the attempt to gather information makes everyone happier, and trust me, I don’t like looking at anyone’s face as they gape at me in open-mouth horror and shock when I deliver a quote of benefits. I don’t want to see your buccal cavity. My boss does.

Out of the Mouth of No Longer Babes

Children say the darnedest things, don’t they?

Who doesn’t have a story about a toddler saying something completely mind-boggling in its logic; humiliating in its over-sharing; or just plain funny?

The other day I picked up the kids from daycare and I made the normal chit-chat (Did you have a good day? Did you do any projects? How much homework do you have?) when out of the proverbial blue and its unlikely lighting, he struck:

It would have been fun having those four other brothers or sisters, wouldn’t it, mom?

Of course I shrugged it off with nothing more than a “I suppose so” in response. I try not to think about it, you know.

I said *try*.

Head Games

I’m sitting here at the kitchen counter with my laptop in front of me, Aitch is next to me eating MY pizza, and a glass of wine (I’m drinking the wine). And before you start thinking how fancy we are, the pizza WAS frozen.

Also in front of me is the paperwork I was going to go over with my mom. It’s the pre-registration packet for her neurology appointment next Monday. We, the family, know its Alzheimer’s, but I guess we think there’s a magic answer to our frustrations by taking her and getting that confirmation. Grandma came up yesterday so she could go to Doodicus’s Winter School Concert and then spend the night to avoid making two trips (she drives 20 miles one way to be here each Monday). We are getting more and more concerned about her in the house alone with Aitch. She “forgets” to feed her lunch or if she took a nap.

When she’s not here, she’s often waiting for my brother to show up on the farm and help her with something, except she can’t remember what it is she asked him to stop over for. She received a rather substantial refund from an insurance policy a few months ago, and after my dad followed up on it, he found it hadn’t been deposited. When he asked her about it, she had no idea what he was talking about and then became upset when HE became upset about her forgetting.

If you have personally experienced someone with Alzheimer’s then you know when they get agitated, the symptoms get worse. Well, it hasn’t been JUST the missing check, but a litany of topics that get brought up by my dad who tends to be a bit of an asshole. This past year has NOT been a good one for my mom.

So I finally decided to make an appointment for my mom to see a neurologist. She needs medication to help stabilize her moods while the disease progresses. But I wasn’t sure how to tell her she had the appointment. While a year ago she was wondering what was wrong with her and why she was forgetting more and more things, she is now at the point where she doesn’t realize there is a problem. When I finally steeled my nerves to tell her and go over the paperwork, it didn’t go quite as well as I had planned.

“I made an appointment with Dr. Braindude next Monday.”

“What for?”

“Uh…well… you know how you said you aren’t feeling well lately….”

“I feel just fine.”

“Well, you mentioned that you thought you were forgetting things.”

“That’s called getting old.”

And the topic was effectively dropped because I totally lost my balls. I put the appointment page in her purse and didn’t say another word. I’ll let the rest of the family know how it went and they can bring it up over the week with her. On the upside, she’ll probably forget that it was me who brought it up in the first place.

Poop & Love

Sometime in July of this year, which was around the time my daughter turned three years old, she pooped in the potty for the first time.

Alas. It was the last time as well.

Nope, still not going anywhere but in her diaper. We’ve even tried sitting her on the potty while wearing the diaper. Methinks she was a bit traumatized. What say you?

(WTF: “Alas”? “Methinks”? “What say you?”?)

Not even bringing out the princess Barbie still in its box and setting it on the bathroom counter in all its pink, glittering glory, could persuade her to just try already. In all likelihood, we will have to tote around diapers on our trip to WDW and that seriously bums me out.

Don’t worry about making any suggestions. They’ve been debunked. If you think we haven’t tried, go ahead and make your Pooper Fixer in the comments and I’ll let you know how that went.

Aitch’s new big girl bed is rather comfy, speaking for experience. I’ve been sleeping on it instead of the sofa sleeper when Sparring Partner starts to snore, which most assuredly he does right around 11:15 p.m. (and if by the grace of ambien I sleep through THAT, it starts again around 5:00 a.m.). It was about that time this morning that she woke me up with some whimpering. I looked over to see her sitting up in her crib.

“Are you cold?” I whispered. “Yes.” “Come over here and lie down with Mommy so you can warm up.” “I can’t get out of bed,” she responded almost desperately. “It’s OK this time. Just come over here.”

I flipped back the my blankets while she crawled out of her crib making sure to grab her Flower (a flower-patterned blanket, Tinker Bell (a blanket with Tinker Bell) and both Unicorns (natch) (I told you we took the side rail off the crib, right?), and plunked it down on the now cleared area next to me and she curled right up. After making sure to nest her toes in the small of my back, she was out.

When Sparring Partner whispered to me about an hour later that it was time to get up, I crawled over Aitch who barely shifted in her sleep. Just as I shut off the water in the shower, I heard her crying over the monitor. SP went in and soothed her but also encouraged her to get up and get dressed. She is not a good waker-upper. Have I told you that the daycare staff draw straws to determine who gets to wake her from nap time?

Anyway, by the time I had slapped on my make-up and dressed for work, she was out having breakfast with SP and Doodicus. I asked why she was crying earlier. “I was worried about you. I woke up in my bed and you were gone,” and my heart melted into my boots.

Sure, she still craps herself when she’s not being anal retentive, but she loves me like no other.
OH! Right before I published this, I remembered this little "nugget". I came up with the idea to have her sit on the potty while in her diaper pooping after one especially touching moment when after she demanded a diaper so she could indeed poop (and we do NOT withhold that request because that will bring us back to 6 days of NOT pooping), she then asked to sit in my lap. Which she did, and then D I D. She used me as a toilet folks. And if that ain’t love…

Home Alone

A Blogging Friend asked on Facebook, “Is blogging dead?”

It inspired me to write a post.

It will prove that in my response, Yes, that blogging is indeed dead. At least here it is.

In nine more weekends, we will be in Florida taking our first full-on family vacation since sometime in 2007. I think. Maybe it was 2006. Both children are old enough for Disney, but Doodicus, being ten, will soon be outside of that realm and think it is all quite dull, or to quote him from this summer’s trip to the mountains, “Lame.”

With Doodicus now ten (by just a couple of days), I did something that may cause a furor with some of you: I left him alone with Aitch while I ran an errand in town. Before panties start twisting too much, I was only gone for 20 minutes. Yes, I know, it only takes a few seconds for shit to go wrong, but I trusted my son with this responsibility. And I have to tell you, he was so excited when I told him. He looked at me with wide eyes and said, “My first time home alone! Yes!” *fist pump* “I’ll help Aitch if she has to go potty or I will get her something to drink and I’ll watch her really closely!”

I may have deflated his excitement a bit when I told him that he’d hardly even realize I was gone. I noted that the clock in my car said 4:38 when I left and 4:55 when I pulled back into the garage.

His initial response to such responsibility was encouraging. As he gets older, that privilege always seems to turn into such a chore, and I guess it will be, since when he’s 17 and 18, he might be chauffeuring his 11 year-old, geeky sister around town. I am also hoping that his response will be just as pumped up when he and Aitch are presented with their personalized Mickey Mouse ears at Christmas, our way of telling them about this upcoming trip (that I STILL have yet to book flights for – I HATE doing that). I am worried he’ll lift the plastic ears attached to the felt beanie out of the box and think, “Oh, hell no. I am NOT wearing that!” and be so consumed by that alone that he’ll fail to let himself get excited.

I feel it’s my duty to those of you with young children: They go from age six to seventeen overnight and the wonder of New! and Fun! and Beauty! and Silliness! gets sucked right out of them. Don’t worry. They’ll get it back again at 21 when they go back to college and a pretty girl or cute boy catches their eye.

Transition

We set up my daughter’s new bed in her room, much to her excitement and anticipation. And in typical psycho-toddler fashion, she promptly refused to sleep in it. Everything one should do when introducing a “big girl/boy bed” was attempted, which included letting her pick the sheets and blankets, setting the bed up without the frame (to keep it low) and putting it in the corner so there are at least two sides are roll-out-proof.

But she still crawls into her crib at night. Yes. She crawls in. She won’t crawl out. She’s always been such a weird child… I asked her why she likes her crib and not her bed. Her answer, “The bed doesn’t have a cage around it.”

Alrighty, then.

We finally removed the drop-down gate on her crib as another step in the Transition, but even I fretted about keeping her feeling secure and didn’t want her rolling out of bed. Somewhere in the back of my head, I recalled a simple tip that involved a swim noodle. Surprisingly, I even remembered where we had stuffed them away after this summer was good and over so I took one and cut it to the length of Aitch’s crib.

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Once cut, I simple stuffed it under the edge of her fitted crib sheet.

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And now as you can see by her wee, ski-feet, both she and her many, many sleeping accoutrements are fairly safe from rolling easily out of her crib. I’ll let you know if this actually works. For sake of a happy ending, let’s assume that it did.

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