Honestly, who knew they'd be so expensive, these children of mine? I expected that the therapy would be on their dime, and would involve much grousing about how I destroyed their lives by 1. writing about them 2. being such a suck-ass mother and 3. refusing to let them have a Wii. Little did I know that I'd be paying for it. Poor sweet little Rosie is going to do 3 intensive weeks at Lindamood Bell's reading program, which by all accounts is awesome, but which I will have to sell a body part to pay for. Anybody interested in a droopy boob? Or a flap of stretched out belly skin? Or a kidney? Plus, she's got to go have binocular vision training, which smacks a little like those bizarro eye exercises they made my mother do back in the 50s that were supposed to "strengthen" her eyes and cure her myopia. How well did they work? Suffice it to say that one my favorite games as a kid was to steal her glasses while she was in the shower and then laugh hysterically as she crashed around the bathroom looking for them. But anyway, we're doing it, because apparently the girl can't "track" and the doctor says that he has a 90% success rate. The office is also in Marin so I'll be driving hours around the bay area. Thank God it's Rosie, because the boys would have told me to go fuck myself.
Anyway, go buy my damn book, because I need to pay for all these shrinks and ed therapists.