It started with a call from my school—not about a missing lunch, but a please come in kind of call. My mom panicked.
The school psychologist showed her a few pictures: potatoes, carrots, beets. “What would you call these together?” she asked.
“Vegetables,” my mom said.
“Your daughter said… ‘ingredients.’ Specifically, ‘ingredients for soup.’”
Mom blinked. I shrugged. To me, potatoes weren’t vegetables—they were mashed potatoes, fries, soup bases. Carrots weren’t vegetables—they were snacks, cake ingredients, things chopped on a stool. I saw function, not labels.
The psychologist explained: nothing was wrong. I just thought practically. A chair isn’t for sitting—it’s for standing on to reach high places. A bed isn’t for sleeping—it’s for reading, hiding snacks, pretending to be sick.
Mom laughed. “So she’s not troubled. She’s just… you.”
Years later, the story still comes up at family dinners. Some see categories. Others see patterns and purpose. I see ingredients for soup. And honestly? That’s more fun anyway. 🥕🥔🥣
