Some people derive great pleasure from pretending to be shocked when they are not. YOU know who you are.


Job is so splendiferiously wonderful. Omigod. Power. Respect. and getting to play on the floor with crayons. It doesn't get any better than this. I counselled my first two children today, ever, and it was a resounding success therapeutically, although my office will never recover, and the foster mother is peeved that I didn't recommend medication so she can manage them more easily, along with the other four kids she has who obey like sheep. Okay, so a few things are frustrating. Like the fact that nobody understands that children up to about ten benefit most from play therapy. They want me to lay the kids down on the couch, smoke the Freudian pipe, and psychoanalyze them. Yeah. At that age, they have a heard time distinguishing between dreams and reality. There's not much of an unconscious to uncover. It's more about building up and integrating and naming, not uncovering. Anyway, I made a drawing of a space ship, and the kid made a jelly fish to go inside it. This made me happy. Until someone tried to staple me to death. Luckily I was able to substitute the stapler with a crocodile.