Cognitive Distortion

Biz gaped in horror at the body parts on her front lawn. Carrot. Buttons. Hat. Scarf. She screeched when stick arms waved grotesquely.

"Calm down, sweetie. Snowmen melt, he's watering my flowers now." Mom soothed. "Come on, help me carry the groceries in."

Watering flowers? With his body? Biz grabbed a grocery bag, cautiously hiding her alarm from Mom and Dad. She'd overheard them plotting last night.

"She freaks out at the slightest thing," Mom had whispered to Dad. "We should take her in."

"She's five, honey, it's just a phase. No head shrinkers yet."

Yet? Biz had stared into the mirror trying to imagine herself with a teeny-tiny head and wondered if these really were her parents.

She'd been relatively calm during their shopping trip, which was difficult since Dad drove right past every Do Not Pass sign. She'd warned him but he'd frowned and raised his brows like he didn't understand. Biz suspected English wasn't his first language. 

Oh, and he was drinking and driving! She'd heard about all the things that can happen— horrible-terrible things. She'd watched for cops and hyperventilated until he finally put the soda can down. Her parents peeked at her in the rearview mirror and she noted their squinty alien-ish eyes.

Drinking wasn't the worst of it. When they stopped for lunch Mom had tried to force her to eat hummus. Force. Her.

"It's okay, Biz, it's made from chickpea."

Chick pee! Did real mothers feed pee to their children? Had chicks been harmed?

Dad scooped a slimy, yellow bite. "Yu-u-u-um!"

Biz retched violently. 

Pee and cops brought back memories of last Friday. After accidentally wetting her pants at school, she'd run all the way home and lay hidden for hours. The police came, she knew they would because Mom had once told her that police come when accidents happen. And everyone knows cops lock you up and throw away the key. Or swallow it.

"Why, Biz?" Mom had asked after finding her at the bottom of the laundry basket. The blotchy, strangely swollen face barely resembled her mother's. Obviously, it would be safer to keep quiet.

She carried the grocery bag into their kitchen. Dad popped the lid off a bottle and took a swig. Biz read the label.

"Corona!" She screamed.

"You're melting down over a beer?" Dad asked. "Seriously?"

Melting down? Biz froze, examined her hands through blurry tears, envisioned empty clothes in a puddle on the floor arms waving grotesquely, body watering Mom's flowers and all those seeds she'd swallowed. Sunflowers and watermelon and pumpkin.

She slapped the bottle of Coronavirus out of her father's hand, doubting he really was her father and raced to the garage freezer. Her parents found her there before she froze.

_____

Biz grew up, earned a Ph.D. in child psychology, and wrote the best-selling book, Cognitive Distortion: Effects of Black and White Thinking