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Milk Money Therapy

My son was a tiny baby (not a record book little, but pretty dang small all the same). He was a compact car when the rest of the babies were SUVs. My guy was teensy, aggressive, and quite possibly suffering from “little man syndrome.”

Milt Carton.

It got me thinking about all the behemoths out there that might not be good-natured as he got older. I needed to formulate a plan to help my wee-one deal with the unfriendly elements in his life.

I figured if I associated good memories with an unpleasant experience, he could ride through those challenging situations reasonably unscathed. So I invented Milk Money Therapy.

Daily, during his toddlerhood, I would pick him up, turn him upside-down, shake him and yell, “Give me your milk money!”

Sometimes I’d get creative and substitute “lunch” for “milk” to keep him on his toes.

I’ll be damned, but that sick ticket loved Milk Money Therapy.

The funny thing was my son grew up to be average-sized and never got mugged for his lunch money. Kids didn’t even bring lunch money to school.

Maybe I’ll have to try iPhone Therapy with my grandchildren one day?

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