Which Play Therapist's Toy are You?

I took my daughter to a play therapist when she was seven. Her big emotions outmatched the limits of my in-house therapy skills. She had the ability to express her feelings in very complex analogies with vivid visual details. I was not familiar with this intense level of emotional communication. After each session the therapist brought me into the playroom and gave me a brief overview of the day’s session, I paid her, and she handed me a receipt. After one session I learned that my daughter was asked to select toy figures that represented important people in her life. She selected a blonde-haired Lego boy for her brother. Appropriate – he has blonde hair, he’s a boy and he likes Legos. She chose a princess for her grandmother, my mother. Again, appropriate – she’s very pretty, kind and the most patient person I know. Her dad was an inanimate object (a mailbox or something). And drum roll . . . out of 500+ toys in the room, she homed in on a witch for me. WTF, Katie?!

Katie loved her therapist. She looked forward to their sessions and always came away from their time together with a big smile on her face. She enjoyed it so much in fact that she set up her own therapy office in her bedroom complete with a box of tissues, a small desk lamp, a pad of paper for keeping notes a Game Boy for tracking appointments and a zippered pouch to hold the money her patients would pay her. She decided that her 4-year-old brother would be her first patient. One night after the kids’ bath-time routine, I found the two of them sitting across from each other at a kid-sized table with a sign on her door that read:

Katie’s Advice!!

if it is a long talk one doller.

if it’s a short talk two quarters.

OPEN

I grabbed my phone, kept my distance and zoomed in to take some pictures. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but from the time they spent together at the table, it seemed like this was a “long talk.” Her facial expressions showed great empathy and concern. She patted his shoulder at one point. Then her eyes widened and her hand shot up and over her mouth showing surprise. Finally, she displayed a gentle smile as the session was ending. At one point during this “one doller” talk, my son laid his head down on the table. I’m pretty sure Katie was doing most of the talking. Perhaps she should’ve been the one paying him.

A couple of months into Katie’s time with her therapist, I met the two of them in the playroom after a session for a brief overview while Katie continued to enjoy herself in the play area of the office. Before I paid the therapist, I worked my way close enough to the toys to see the witch Katie used to represent me. The witch was wearing all black with a traditional pointy wide-brimmed hat, but to my surprise and delight, I was a cute little witch with a broad smile holding a sassy little pink purse. Thank you, my pretty.