Do I need to pay for the therapy?

There are some days when you feel like a great parent. You undestand the mumble-speak, you know exactly how to fix the owie, you remain calm when the toddler has a screaming tantrum over a Lego that doesn't fit.

This is not one of those days.

Baby Chalal stayed up about an hour too late last night because of his cousin's birthday party, so he was not at his best this morning. Nevertheless, we got everyone fed, dressed, out the door, and to daycare on time, for which I was congratulating myself. The door to his classroom was blocked by the arrival of the New Girl, all 12 months and 25 chubby inches of her, and her family.

Baby, instead of sitting down obediently to have his shoes removed, spent the first several minutes touching and hugging New Girl while she tried to look at the fish, talk to her mama, explore the toys, etc. All the while, he's looking at us for approval that he is touching her "gently" as we always exhort him to.

As Bad Cohen and I were about to leave, Baby Chalal took a running start towards New Girl and shoved her flat on her face, with both hands.

Great. I can just picture her in therapy someday, trying to figure out her fear of new situations and older men...