One down, a million to go

I’ve crossed worrying about Dannielynn Stern’s paternity off my list of things to ponder while brushing my teeth. I’ve replaced it with trying to figure out how that 8 month old baby got amphetamines, methamphetamines and nicotine in his system. Specifically, the police said the amount found in his blood was too much for it to be incidental. Oh. My. Word. I’m in favor of the use of torture tactics to find out from that mother and grandmother what happened because that’s unbelievable stuff. 8 months old. 8. Before I had children, 8 months old was a vague concept to me. Now, my mind immediately summons up images of my own kids at that age. If you gave methamphetamines to an 8 month old you should never get near another kid. I’m super paranoid giving my 1 year old Benadryl. Kids can die from a Benadryl overdose so I stress out checking the dosage on the bottle and making sure I read the markings on the medicine dropper right. I also once made my husband call poison control after I thought we gave our 3 year old too much Tylenol. She’s fine. Turns out, she could swig pretty much a whole bottle of that stuff and do nothing but get a good night’s rest. Methamphetamines, however, I’m thinking it doesn’t take a lot to OD an 8 month old. And I’m pretty sure the crack whore giving it to him isn’t a pharmacist working out the dosage based on his weight or anything. The mother has since admitted that she’s addicted to drugs but doesn’t think she has a bad problem. She’s six months pregnant and still doing drugs. I guess “bad” is a relative term in that situation.

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