The Arrival of Mr. P

This is Sancho, the new member of our family. He was given to us by our friends, mentioned below in previous post, and we love him. Sancho Pancho, Mr. Pancho and now, Mr. P.

SSMG discovered this morning that Mr. P understands "P" to mean "pee", so now we have to stop calling him Mr. P unless we want puddles in the house.

Enough about that because really, it's not about me now, is it.

My new friend from school (NFFS) came over last night and we talked shop a bit to try and organize ourselves for this massive paper we have to write on why we do or do not think we're suited to be therapists. As if. We're in class to determine if we're worthy of this program, and we're gonna write about how we don't think we're suited to the profession? Gawd! (NFFS coined that. I love it. I would normally say "jesus!" or "christ!" but now I don't have to offend anyone when I exclaim stupidity.)

I'm learning empathy and probing and all sorts of listening skills that are supposed to encourage people to talk. Thing is, I listen naturally, and there are too many people that I don't WANT to talk. In fact, I wish most people (strangers, that is) would just shut up, but no. They feel compelled to tell me their life stories and talk at me. Like they even care if I'm listening. They could be talking to Sancho just as easily. He'd look like he was listening.

So again, I'm not so sure I am suited for this career. In general, I don't think misanthropy is a good trait for a therapist to possess.

The ice cream that SSMG got me for Valentines Day froze. This is very sad because it was so scrumptious and he was so creative and cute for getting it for me. But he's going sailing for a week, and I am going to be home alone with all six pints, so it's a blessing in disguise, as the week after, I'm off to the spa. Being that I will most likely be in a bathing suit, eating six pints of ice cream probably ain't the best way to spend the week. I've been saved from myself.

Mr. P is lying next to me with his baby, Baby P, which before too long, he'll chew to a pulp. I'm so happy to have him.