First visit with the educational-therapeutic-psychologist guy

Maybe we're just making this up in some kind of shared hallucination," I said to Lynn-nore as we looked about this psychiatrist's office. An Auburn clock and mug. A Pampered Chef timer. A Crack the Case game. "Don't even say that," she shivered. Dr. Howard's office was amazingly familiar in nearly every respect. Indeed, he himself could have been Dr. Davis' brother. A little taller, yes, and more laid back, as in the off-hours. I don't even remember how we got started, but we had an hour and a half to talk about our Kara, and we sure did. Dr. H. was friendly. He took notes. He made observations and asked questions. When he asked, "Can she stand still?" Both of us just stopped and thought. Surely I can think of one occassion . . . We hit every communicable tale, plot-point, characteristic, atmospheric detail--everything!--that was possible in that ninety minute space and felt good about it. I think this man is going to help. He nodded when we described, oh, the inability to stop putting her feet on us during prayer; to stop leaning on me during dinner; to not go limp and lazy the minute any mental question becomes slightly difficult. "My hypothesis," he said, "is that she's somewhere on the border between ADHD and sensory integration issues." And now he'll meet with Kara a few times and we'll see where we go from there.