More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“He isn’t mean to me any more,” he said. “But he used to be mean to me. Maybe he even likes me now.” Back to his recording he went. “I hate you, Papa!” he shouted. “I hate you! Don’t you ever lock me up again or I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you anyhow! For all the mean things you did to me!”
“Please don’t do this to me,” he cried out for the father doll. “I’m sorry I ever hurt you. Please give me another chance.”
“And he is so sorry for everything he ever did. He says ‘I love you, Dibs. Please help me. I need you.’ So the little boy unlocks the prison and lets his father out.”
“The boy rescued his father and the father was sorry for everything he did that had hurt the boy,” I said. “He said he loved Dibs and needed him.”
“Yes,” Dibs said. “It was nice. A very nice trip out to the beach and back. And there were no angry words. Not any.” “And no angry words,” I commented.
And then I told myself to just let him be. Just let him be free.”
As Dibs stood before me now his head was up. He had a feeling of security deep inside himself. He was building a sense of responsibility for his feelings. His feelings of hate and revenge had been tempered with mercy. Dibs was building a concept of self as he groped through the tangled brambles
of his mixed-up feelings. He could hate and he could love. He could condemn and he could pardon. He was learning through experience that feelings can twist and turn and lose their sharp edges. He was learning responsible control as well as expression of his feelings. Through this increasing self-knowledge, he would be free to use his capacities and emotions more constructively.
Pepsi Cola holes
Look at my city. My world! I built my world and it is a world full of friendly people.”
“My house and Miss A’s house are getting farther and farther apart — about a mile afar.
“But big Dibs is big and strong and brave. He is not afraid any more.” He looked up at me.
Dibs had come to terms with himself. In his symbolic play he had poured out his hurt, bruised feelings, and had emerged with feelings of strength and security. He had gone in search of a self that he could claim with proud identity. Now he was beginning to build a concept of self that was more in harmony with the capacities within him. He was achieving personal integration.
“I love books,” he said. “And isn’t it funny that little black marks on paper can be so good? Pieces of paper and little tiny black marks and you’ve got a story.”
I built my world with you in the playroom.
We are all personalities that grow and develop as a result of all our experiences, relationships, thoughts, and emotions. We are the sum total of all the parts that go into the making of a life.
