Preview of fodder for therapy session, ca. 2030.

I joke around a good bit. Well, a lot. I like to tell lies for my own amusement. Like when I told a guy hitting on me at a bar that I’d never tried cereal. Or when I convinced my husband-then-suitor that a sleazy, rent by the hour motel was actually secretly a super deluxe hotel that visiting celebrities hid out in. Just good, clean fun.

So naturally, I play little games with my kids. Mostly the older one, as the other one has only recently mastered object permanence and a sparse sample of English. I thought this was good clean fun, too. Until tonight.

Tomorrow is MLK day, which means she doesn’t have school. Normally, she has school on Monday and Wednesday. Edie thrives on routine, and even more so on verbal reassurance/warning of what is to come. So, tonight at dinner, we told her there was no school tomorrow. She laughed. We said, no, it’s a holiday, and there will be no school. She laughed harder and said there IS school. We tried, begging that it is Monday, and usually there is school, but we really aren’t kidding. She laughed and laughed. Here’s a segment of this.

Note that we kept straight faces for almost all of the first five minutes of this. Eventually, the surreal nature of this conversation, and the sick realization that we had broken her brain, made it hard not to laugh with her. We really did try.