16Bonnie’s idea of making dinner had nothing to do with preparing food. Her idea of a cooking implement was a trusty telephone with a pizza delivery place on speed dial.
When the gang retired inside the house after their walk and Milly’s gymnastics demo, Bonnie ordered up pizza for everyone in seconds flat. Mom offered to pay, but Baba Tereska wouldn’t hear of it; picking up tabs for the family was an art form to her, though she wasn’t exactly loaded.
As we waited for the pizza to arrive, the ADHD Dozen swarmed me like ants on a candy bar. As I sat on the beat-up plaid sofa in the messy living room, the twelve kids literally crawled all over me. They jockeyed for position on the cushions beside me, the backrest behind me, and the carpet in front of me. The two littlest ones squirmed
