The Hazards of Counseling Picture Books

Debbi Bradford was a little girl who never got into trouble. Her brown plaits were neat and her jumpers unstained. Debbi was quiet and most children did not bother her, very much. Down the street from little Debbi, there lived a little boy, Jean Drake. Jean did not know Debbi very well but their parents often took them to the community playground at the same time.

One day, Debbi appeared at the playground in a sparkly white leotard and a frilly rose tutu. It really was not a good look for her. The other children sniggered behind their hands but Jean was bold enough to point and laugh. Debbi wrinkled her forehead and stomped over to the parent’s pavilion. Jean was on her heels begging her with watery hazel eyes not to tell his mother.

That did not stop Debbi; she went to straight to Mrs. Drake and tugged on the woman’s sleeve. Mrs. Drake turned and Debbi who pointed at Jean, “Your little boy is laughing at me. Make him stop!”

Mrs. Bradford came over and took Debbi to a different area of the playground. There she sat alone in the sandbox where her dainty ballet slippers were taking in grains. Little Debbi did not see Jean again.

It was the next weekend on a Sunday that it was told that Jean Drake had passed away three days after delivering his insult. He was riding his tricycle when an eighteen wheel accidentally ran over him. Jean had died in the ambulance. When Mrs. Drake made an appearance at the playground, she was red and pinched with distress.

The news put the five year olds of Mai Dolley Park in a state of wild mourning. All the children were wailing and screeching for the loss of their comrade. All the children but little Debbi, that is. Mrs. Bradford took her daughter home, tucked her in for a nap and scoured the yellow pages for counselors that specialized in children. It took all of naptime for Mrs. Bradford to find the right one.

Dr. Zdneck was an accredited doctor who held group meeting and private sessions with children who had experienced a loss. He was going to visit Debbi to get an idea of what she needed. The appointment was set for the next week on Thursday. In the mean time, the unemotional girl was showered with grief counseling picture books. Debbi would glance and the cover and go back to her coloring velvets and singing the ABCs. Needless to say, the next week could'nt come quickly enough for Debbi’s mother.

The good doctor Zdneck came that Thursday in a camel suit and a yellow and pink polka dot bow tie. He found Debbi in the den with her dolls and sat beside her.

“Well, Miss Debbi, how are you today?” the man asked his most syrupy sweet voice he reserved for difficult children.

Debbi ran a brush through her blond doll’s tresses, “I am fine, thank you, sir.”

“Really?” Dr. Zdneck replied with surprise, “Your mommy told me that your neighbor died, aren’t you sad?”

“No Jean was a mean little brat who made fun of me. If anything I am glad.”

“But is it good to be happy about someone’s death, Miss Debbi?”

Debbi scrunched up her face and started bawling, “No, I am a mean little brat too, aren’t I?”

Dr. Zdneck patted the child on the head as she flailed about. He smiled at her mother, “She’ll be just fine ma’am.”