The Best Therapy

In our house, apparently, we don’t play school. We play therapy.

We came home this morning from breakfast with my grandfather. It’s going to be 110 today, so options are limited.

“No TV!” Ray admonished, and since it’s Father’s Day, I toned down my objection.

DIdn’t matter — Annabelle immediately invited Sophie into her room. That’s happening more and more, but not always with good results.

Yesterday Sophie got loose in Annabelle’s room for 5 minutes and wreaked the kind of havoc that convinces an almost 7 year old that life as she knows it is over. (Til the mess is cleaned up, which took another 5 minutes; it mainly involved the strewning about of a collection of Neopet cards.) 

But today’s another day, and the girls disappeared into Annabelle’s room. At the end of an hour (after several listens at the door) I thought, “Wow, Annabelle’s able to hold Sophie’s attention longer than any of her therapists.”

Moments later, the two emerged. “Sophie had a successful day at therapy,” Annabelle informed me. (Correction: “Miss Annabelle”.) And she handed me a note:

“Today Sophie had a hard day. But tomaro will be better. She needs to stop this behavyer,” Annabelle wrote (on personalized stationery, a nice touch), in a good imitation of Sophie’s therapists combined with a touch of Alexander’s mom, after his terrible, horrible day. (We saw the play recently.)

The two disappeared again, emerging to inform me it’s time for a field trip “to the computer lab to explore Neopets.”

So I’ve got to get off now, and share.

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