Staff Reports
In a week that saw the usual chaos and hand-wringing associated with American politics, one article stood out like a sore thumb—or possibly like a pimple on an otherwise pristine face. Found within the sacred pages of the San Francisco Chronicle, penned by none other than Ariella Cook-Shonkoff, a child therapist and art therapist (because clearly, those two fields are inextricably linked), the piece addressed a pressing concern of the progressive elite: how to talk to kids about Donald Trump’s election. Because nothing says “I’m well-adjusted” like seeking therapy for a topic that gets the blood boiling faster than a pot of water set to boil for coffee.
The advice in this column was, dare we say, delightful comedic fodder. According to Ms. Cook-Shonkoff, parents should first take time to “grieve” before broaching the subject of our favorite orange-haired reality TV star. Now, grieving is a healthy response to loss—unless, of course, the loss is merely the fact that their own beliefs about America’s trajectory have been unceremoniously crumpled and tossed into the trash. In that case, a walk in the woods might do the trick. Who knew that when discussing political distress, one also needed a hefty dose of nature therapy? Perhaps a woodland creature might provide sage advice like, “Have you considered accepting that you can’t control everything?”
Once parents have taken this necessary prelude to therapy—presumably while clenching their reusable coffee cups and whispering affirmations to the trees—they should then conjure up the courage to discuss the realities of our charmingly unpredictable president with their kiddos. Picture this: a parent, still teary-eyed and possibly donning a blanket reminiscent of a very emotional sofa, shuffles toward their child. The parent looks with concern upon Brenda, their little one, who just wanted a fun birthday without any “adult” topics ruining the cake and ice cream. Yet here we are, in the surreal version of an awkward family drama where therapy meets the circus.
The vision of this discussion only spirals further into absurdity. The parent might take a deep breath and say, “Brenda, sweetheart, I know you’ve been excited about your birthday celebration, but guess what? Donald Trump is here, and he has some complicated views about gender. You might want to start evaluating the whole ‘pretending to be a girl’ thing.” One can only imagine Brenda’s wide eyes processing what, exactly, a GOP president has to do with her identity crisis—it’s almost a reality show plot twist worthy of its season.
Then enters the daughter, typically dubbed “Cruella” in this narrative, who’s facing her own melodrama. “Listen, sweetheart,” our beleaguered parent might say, “it’s not looking good for your plans involving emotional empowerment through reckless dating and countless life decisions influenced by overpriced alcohol. You may have heard news about abortion being banned in states you’ve likely never heard of.” Were those therapy sessions truly necessary if they’re skipping right past the critical discussions of personal agency and heading straight for the hard-hitting realities of a teenager’s dating life?
In the end, one can’t help but marvel at how humorously absurd it becomes when politics creep into the melodrama of family life. The irony is thick as progressives call for emotional sensitivity yet fall short when handing it to their children, preferring instead to assign their emotional baggage to a therapist. While it may be tempting to laugh, let’s remember we’re discussing children—the innocent bystanders in these ideological crossfires. After all, if you lead with hysteria instead of rational discussion, you might just raise a generation of emotionally confused kids wondering why their birthday cake is suddenly decorated with miniature MAGA hats.
So, parents, as you navigate the chaotic waters of today’s political landscape, don’t forget to keep it light, keep it loving, and for heaven’s sake—no grief-ridden forest walks unless there’s a good tree to hug! And to those few brave souls who fall into the progressive pit of despair, consider this a gentle nudge—perhaps those therapy sessions are better spent exploring things like, oh, reality.
