It’s been a hard day. You know—the kind of day when you go to pick your kid up from day camp only to be besieged by teachers and staff who each deliver reports of your kid’s terrible, no-good behavior.

It’s the usual complaints. Not listening. Not following directions. Not paying attention. Not obeying a teacher’s orders. Not keeping those hands to yourself. Talking at inappropriate times.

In other words: it’s another typical day in the life of a kid who struggles with ADHD. Every kid with ADHD has good intentions. Nobody starts the day thinking: what can I do today to piss off my parent or teacher? We start the day meaning well; it’s controlling those impulses, reigning in that excess energy, and staying focused for long periods of time that’s hard. And that, I’ve learned, has nothing to do with intention. I’m not excusing any bad behavior, but for my kid, it’s the thing (or the lack thereof!) between intention and impulse that gets in the way.

Not long before this, my family went on a long car trip. I raided my local library beforehand, loading up on audiobooks and videos to keep the kids busy. It was halfway through our Ramona Quimby audiobook marathon (narrated by Stockard Channing) that my daughter said it.

“I think Ramona has ADHD,” she said from the backseat. When I asked why, she countered with this: “Because she’s always getting into trouble and having tantrums.” My son added: “Miss Binney keeps telling her to keep her eyes on her work and stay in her seat.”

Oh my God, I thought. They’re right. I had never thought of it that way. To me, Ramona was always, well, Ramona. She was a handful, but so lovable for her imperfections, earnestness, and potential to be an interesting adult. Did Beverly Cleary create a character with ADHD in a time when we didn’t have such a rigorous diagnostic apparatus for children?

New research in ADHD shows us that the disorder is not so much about attention but self-regulation. Especially for the hyperactive/impulsive type, ADHD makes it hard to regulate emotions and energy or control impulses. Ramona showed the classic signs of a kid whose emotional outbursts, sensitivity, and physical restlessness could be due to ADHD.

I began to connect the dots: who else, but a kid with ADHD, would need all those reminders to keep his eyes on his work or sit still? Who else, but a kid with ADHD, would crave her teacher’s approval so desperately and then fall off the emotional deep end when somebody copied her idea and got the teacher’s approval instead?

* * * * *

During our car ride back, we indulged in a Jack Gantos marathon. We started with Dead End in Norvelt and From Norvelt to Nowhere and moved on to Joey Pigza Swallowed the Key and Joey Pigza Loses Control.

Gantos makes no bones about the fact that Joey (and his father) have ADHD. Gantos is one of the funniest writers around, but what began to bother me was this: we were laughing at Joey when he did something crazy like swallowing the key or eating the shoofly pie. We were laughing at his impulsivity. Just like we laughed when Ramona had to pull Susan’s curls or when she lost her temper when she felt Susan copied her owl.

What are we laughing at when the funny part of a children’s story is about poor impulse control or emotional regulation? Anyone who struggles with ADHD can tell you that it is not funny or cute in real life when these things happen. In fact, it can be socially damaging. So why are we laughing at it in fiction? Is our laughter helpful or hurtful to the child who might struggle with these behaviors in real life?

Ramona Quimby, Joey Pigza, and while I’m at it, Clementine, Percy Jackson, and Tom Sawyer are some of my favorite characters from children’s literature who all seem to display traits commonly associated with ADHD. I love these characters because they’re not perfect, because they struggle, and because they are big-hearted, earnest, and lovable despite their flaws. Ultimately, I think these books bring humanity to the daily struggle to control one’s impulses and emotions. I’m just not sure about the humor.

I don’t want my kids to ever get the impression that when we laugh at the impulsivity of a fictional character who seems to have ADHD, that we are laughing at them or making light of their very real struggles. What I wished I told my kids about Ramona or Joey was this: look at how perceptive, creative, loving, and smart these characters are. Sure, they may push the boundaries and get in trouble from time to time, but they are worth the trouble. We love them for who they are, but we wouldn’t want them any other way.

Do you agree with this conclusion? Or do you think that I have gone diagnosis crazy or that it’s wrong to think about our beloved Ramona Quimby/Joey Pigza/Clementine in this way? Readers, I’d love to know what you think!

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