If Your Savings Account Doesn’t Factor In Therapy, You’re Probably Not A Parent

Although now I’m wondering if we should be saving up for E’s therapist or mine.

E: What is this?
Me: That’s a jar opener.
E: Can I have a jar?
Me: Yes. Go to the pantry.
E: {blink blink}
Me: It’s the closet with food.
E walks over to the pantry.
E: Where’s a jar?
Me: Right in front of you.
E while looking in every direction but directly in front of him: Where?
Me: Look straight ahead.
E: Where?
Me: See the books?
Because cookbooks are not straight ahead, E says: Yes.
Me: Look at the shelf above the books.
E (somehow skipping that shelf and look at the one above it): Is that a jar?
Me: What does it look like?
E: Like a jar.
His eyes are not pointed at ANY JARS.
Me: No E. That’s not actually a jar. {sigh while pulling out my hair} I’ll get it for you.

thirty minutes later

Me: Can you call Dada and ask him if he’s on his way home?
E: OK!
I dial the number and hand E the phone.
E: HI DADA!
Me: Wait until he answers his phone.
E: Hi Dada!
Me: Is he on his way home?
E: Are you on your way home?
Me: Did he say yes?
E: Yes.
Me: What street is he on?
E: What street are you on?
{pause}
Me: What street is Dada on, E?
E: What street is Dada on, Mama?
Me: I don’t know E. Ask Dada.
E: Dada, what street are you on?
Me: What street?
E: What street?
Me: What?
E: Hi Dada.
Me: E, what street is Dada on?
E: Where?
Me: Ask Dada what street he’s on and tell him to say tell Mama.
E: Dada, what street are you on?
Me: AND TELL HIM TO TELL MAMA.
E: Are you on (our street)?
Me: He’s home?
E: No. Just us. We’re on (our street).
My husband walks in two minutes later. So I still have a patch of hair left.

I just keep thinking of The Animaniacs meeting the P-sychiatrist. Except I’m the old white guy.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on LateEnough.com, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

16 thoughts on “If Your Savings Account Doesn’t Factor In Therapy, You’re Probably Not A Parent

  1. The jar incident? Yeah. That’s not because he’s a child, it’s because he’s a future man.

    These conversations abound in our household…between me and the 36-year-old.

  2. Ahhh now we know the origin of the “Who’s on first?” skit. 🙂 Maybe you and E should have your own TV show.

  3. My son can stare at what he’s looking for and not find it. “No, right there! In front of you. You see the truck, yes? Beside the truck! The truck at your feet! Ack!”

    Hubs is the same way. Just the other day, he said “can you get it for me? If you know where you put it, I don’t want to waste time looking for it” (right, ’cause it is RIGHT in front of you!)

  4. While I highly recommend budgeting for therapy, it should be for the kids, not for you.

    Your mistake is thinking you can have an actual conversation with a lower life form. You wouldn’t get upset if an amoeba made no sense, so why a toddler?

  5. Well, I could’ve had that jar conversation with my husband! Your son is just a man-in-training!

    As for the phone conversation….sounds exactly like the conversation we had yesterday. Sigh.

  6. I love (in a weird ironic kind of way) that you posted a clip of a cartoon to further prove your crazyness, and you are started the TV Challenge, and had your children been watching tv you might not be as crazy. (well the last part is debatable) : )

  7. I love it. I live in a houseful of boys and they’re all the same. We have three representatives, from age 1 to age 38, and none of them can find things, even when the thing is right in front of them. I’m forever pointing out, “If that [insert name of thing we’re searching for] had been a snake, it would have bitten you.” And forever receiving blank stares.

    Phone calls? Forget it. My 4-yr.-old doesn’t let the other person get a word in and when he’s said what he called to say, he wraps it up with “I’m done talking to you” and hangs up. When he does bother to stop and listen to the person on the other end of the line, he won’t physically answer them. Instead, he just shakes his head. Clearly, the phone is still a sketchy concept even though he’s been familiar with the object since birth.

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