Monday, November 28, 2016

I am officially an abused child...says a social worker.

A while ago I posted about how my father taught me to navigate when I was still in school. We spent hours at the kitchen table with books, tables, pencil and reams of paper.

The 'final exam' he gave me lasted 21 long hours and he was tickled pink I had pretty much maxed it.

I was talking about it with a friend the other day at the greasy spoon and some dippy little social worker listened in and told me I was an abused child.

Thank God for small miracles. If I had not been abused like that I would not have grown up as competent as I am. Things like that taught me I was a lot smarter and tougher than I thought I was.

If you don't push a kid once in a while how the hell is he ever going to find out how capable he is?

I was lucky that day because my friend decided to enter the fray and save me the effort.

"He may have been an abused kid fifty years ago," he said. "But YOU are going to become an abused social worker in about two seconds if you don't leave us alone."

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

No comments:

Post a Comment