Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?
THE kids’ bedroom was taken over by woodlice last week.
I say taken over – I found three in the space of five minutes.
It was enough to freak Jacob out, though.
He wouldn’t go back into his room for the rest of the day, and walked around with his eyes fixed firmly on the carpet muttering about the “little creatures”.
He’d been saying it all morning actually, but I thought he was saying “little pizzas.”
In hindsight, I can see why he gave that look when I told him he could have one for his tea.
The penny only dropped when I spotted one of the insects crawling along the floor and Jacob went all high-pitched and clingy.
I reassured him, it was just a friendly woodlouse that had come to say hello and was now going back home to be with his family. Via some kitchen roll and out the front door.
Benjamin wasn’t bothered. He’s too busy practising his walking to be fearful.
Stomping along, shrieking. Crying when he falls down, his arms stretched out waiting to be pulled up, because he still won’t try for himself.
Perhaps he’s scared of failure. Scared that if does try and get up, he’ll fall flat on his face.
He’ll have to get over that one. He’s putting my back out.
But Jacob is scared enough of things for both of them.
Little creatures is the latest addition to his ever-growing list of things he is frightened of, which also includes: dogs, cats, vacuum cleaners, hand-driers, loud coffee machines, ghosts, and daddy when he pretends to be the big bad wolf.
As soon as we knock one of his terrors off the list, a new one gets added.
And I thought we had cured him of his fear of vacs, but an unsavoury episode in Currys recently has put them back on there.
I’m convinced he does it for attention.
When mummy or daddy puts the vac on (more often daddy in these days of modern parenting), he clings to the other one in mock anguish.
And despite his ‘fears’, he’s always asking me to be the big bad wolf and eat him. It’s just that when I do, he starts to cry.
Perhaps I play the role with too much gusto. Perhaps there is no need to howl so much and bare my teeth.
That’s what a GCSE in drama does for you.
And when he says “no daddy, no daddy”, I should take it that literally.
Growling back “I am not daddy, I am the big bad wolf” and going back in for the kill’s not going to help anyone.
The tears soon follow and mummy comes in to cuddle him and gives me that look.
Now that’s one thing that is on my scared list.
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Weather for South Shields
Thursday 24 May 2012
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