My first experience with isolation happened twelve years ago, when a three-year-old strawberry blonde with two pigtails that sprang out of the back of her head was left at our home.  Having adopted her eight months earlier, the family said they couldn't keep her anymore.  The father's actual words were "We don't care if you keep her or who keeps her, but we're not taking her home."   Our education on isolation began. Within a few weeks, we observed things that made no sense to us.  The first: She never cried, ever.  Within a month, she ran into the edge of the kitchen bar, knocking her off her feet.  I ran to her, and she was laughing.  Tears never fell.  She rocked back and forth all the time — in the car, while she ate, standing, never still.  She never fell asleep in the warm sun of a car ride, ever. Rage.  Attempting to hold and calm her, she...(Read Full Article)