14 January 2026, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2982: not my shrink
“OK, so I got a question, and it doesn't have anything to do with the stuff we are talking about today, so I waited until the end because I've always wanted to ask why people call a psychiatrist a shrink. It doesn't make sense because we've been doing family therapy for a while, and I've grown an inch. So, you're definitely not my shrink.”
Dr. Gloria Travis loved nine-year-old George Ludlow, and how his grandfather and adopted father, Capt. R.E. Ludlow, always put his head in his hand while still smiling and Mrs. Thalia Ludlow, his grandmother and adopted mother, always gently chuckled at George being George.
George being George was progress. He was severely neglected in foster care, and him feeling like someone cared to listen was a thing to be encouraged.
“This is a really good question, and I used to wonder about that myself,” Dr. Travis said, and smiled as George grinned and his seven siblings leaned forward with greater interest. “So, the idea is that a psychiatrist helps you shrink your head, which can be full of thoughts that are making it too heavy. We help you learn how to take the weight off your mind and keep it off, so we shrink your head.”
George considered this.
“You know, my head is getting bigger,” he said, “but for a mind shrink, you're actually doing a great job.”
“Thank you, George,” Dr. Travis said.
“So, how much mind weight do you think all of us have taken off – and don't forget to add in Glendella because she's one of us now,” eight-year-old Edwina said.
“Well, we can't measure it on a scale like you have in the bathroom,” Dr. Travis said, “but, if you feel less worried and afraid and more able to manage your feelings, that means you've lost mind weight.”
“I haven't broken bad for a minute, though,” Edwina said.
“Yeah, you haven't – except maybe Glittapocalypse,” ten-year-old Glendella said.
“Well, no, Glennie,” Edwina said, “because I was trying to spread love with Amanda and sometimes parents don't get it so I had to pick the lock to the glitter cabinet so we could complete our mission – but then when you pick locks to do stuff, other things break loose, so, I learned.”
“Yeah, we were trying to do good, but, not in the right way,” Amanda said.
“The fact that you three can talk about it calmly means you've lost a lot of mind weight,” Dr. Travis said.
“OK, so, can we talk about how I was just trying to create a winter wonderland with the baking soda, but I just didn't know salt kills stuff?” George said.
“Sure!” Dr. Travis said. “I'm sure your grandparents explained before grounding you for awhile.”
“Yeah, and Papa said the problem wasn't the baking soda, but in checking in first – but I never had anybody to check in with because nobody was paying attention before,” George said.
“See, but that's the thing, George,” Edwina said. “You really gotta stop messing up, because you are a good boy at heart. I did all kinds of stuff when nobody was checking, and I'm not sorry. You don't work like that.”
George considered this, and then turned to his brothers Andrew and Grayson.
“I'm really one of y'all?”
“If you want to be,” ten-year-old Andrew said. “You just gotta remember to check in first.”
“And maybe get into the Lego pile more, because we can do anything there, especially since I ain't gotta take bad foster parents out any more by putting Legos where they aren't paying attention.”
“See, Grayson is the one who shows us you can be a good boy and still be dangerous to people that need to be in danger!” Edwina said. “I'm trying to get there!”
“Well, you know, that's just Papa,” Grayson said. “Robert is his loud twin and I am his quiet one, and you are his fighting one, Eddie.”
Dr. Travis addressed Capt. Ludlow and said, “Well, Captain, I guess we know what is going on. You have some twins among your grandchildren in addition to Robert.”
“Well, we coulda told you that, see, because, we're small, but don't miss that we all have real tall souls, and we're still twins, see, because, stuff happens at hospitals,” five-year-old Lil' Robert said.
“It does,” Dr. Travis said. “Lots of stuff happens at hospitals, especially with generational twins.”
“See? I told y'all!” Lil' Robert said. “Like Velma says next door, I've been telling y'all – that's a real doctor, but you could just have believed me, but, see, nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“It's not that people don't believe you, Rob,” eleven-year-old Eleanor said, “but it's just that they may need therapy too so they can understand.”
“And maybe they need to shrink their heads a little bit so they can see we're not really that small at all!” seven-year-old Amanda said.
Dr. Travis smiled as Capt. Ludlow's smiling head went back into his hand, and Mrs. Ludlow started chuckling. Just another family therapy day on Zoom with the Ludlows, with the little Ludlows blossoming into confidence, healing from hard days of early childhood past.