The Social Worker

"Mom, look!" My four year old son proudly displayed a cornucopia of small chairs and toys. "It's a desk for my office!"  I was then invited into his "office" and persuaded to sit down.  He picked up a pencil and paper, sat on his chair and said, "Now, tell me your problems. I'm a shocial worker."

And so I spilled my guts. When I didn't tell him anything worthwhile, he coached me by telling me what to say. "Say you're not smart in the head and sometimes when you laugh you pee your pants."  Wow. This kid really knows his client.

After dinner I turned to my new therapist and asked him to tell me his problems.

"Shocial workers don't have problems," he retorted.

"I beg to differ," I replied, looking pointedly at his dad.

And this is how I was relieved of my duties and the real social worker finally received his needed help.

I am so proud.