The Choice

that he was the one with the most important things to say.
I told the parents I would spend the next part of the session with
them, without their children in the room, and I took Leah and her
brother into my adjoining office, where I gave them drawing paper
and markers. I gave them an assignment, something I thought might
help them let off steam aer the tense minutes with their parents. I
asked them each to draw a portrait of their family but without using
people.
I returned to the parents. e colonel was yelling at his wife. She
appeared to be wasting away, disappearing, and I was concerned she
might be in the early stages of an eating disorder. If I asked her a
question directly, she deferred to her husband. Each family member
was in his or her own stockade. I could see the evidence of their inner
pain in the ways they accused one another and hid themselves. But in
trying to get them closer to the sources of their pain, I only seemed to
be inviting them to open fire or recede even further.
“We’ve talked about what you see going on with your children,” I
said, interrupting the colonel. “What about what’s going on with you?”
Leah’s mother blinked at me. Her father gave me a cold stare.
“What do you wish to achieve, as parents?”
“To teach them how to be strong in the world,” the colonel said.
“And how are you doing with that?”
“My daughter’s a slut and my son’s a sissy. How do you think?”
“I can see that your daughter’s behaviors are scaring you. What
about your son? How is he disappointing you?”
“He’s weak. He’s always backing down.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“When we play basketball together, he’s a sore loser. He doesn’t
even try to win. He just walks away.”
“He’s a boy. He’s much smaller than you. What happens if you let
him win?”