Everyday Monsters

All three of my children are pretty fearless. On the 4th of July, Sofia went down the (very tall) slide at my aunt's pool without a second thought. Sam's exploits are evident by the number of trips we make to the ER. Ben is generally in the middle of anything exciting that is happening. My kids have never been afraid of the dark. Never afraid of the drain in the bathtub. Never afraid of sitting on the toilet. But last week, Ben has developed his first semi-rational fear. He has a fear of almost any appliance with an electrical cord.

I first became aware of this fear after Sam dumped an ice chest with several inches of water upside down onto the family room carpet. Mommy not happy. But Mommy prepared. I pulled out my hand-held Bissell spot cleaner from the dark recesses of the laundry room to vacuum up the water. I'm actually a bit happy about it--I can get my money's worth out of the contraption, since this is already the second time I've used it in seven years!

Anyways, as I'm sucking up the water, Ben starts to whimper, staring at the puddle on the floor. Although it was Sam who dumped the water to begin with, the boys often will have "sympathy sadness." If one did something bad & got into trouble, they both with cry in remorse. So I figured he was just helping his brother express his regret at the trouble he had caused. But the whimpering grew more and more insistent. After I got as much water as my weak little machine could suck, I put the vacuum on the counter, out of temptation from little curious hands. Ben walked over in front of it, and kept pointing to it, saying "mama, mama, mama, mama."

They are at the stage right now where they will point to an object to hear it's name.

"Uh-uh-uh," says Sam, pointing.

"Yes, Sam, that's a octopus."

"Uh-uh-uh. Mama," says Ben.

"Yes, Ben, that's a jar of pickle relish."

Well, this time Ben just wouldn't stop. His eyebrows were furrowed, the corners of his mouth pinched together, his whiny little voice gaining more and more urgency, no matter how many times I told him it was a vacuum.

"Mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama."

Finally, I grew exasperated and put the little vacuum back in the closet from whence it emerged. I guess that's one way to make me clean up after myself! But I figured he was just bothered by the strange appliance he had never seen before.

The next day I pulled out the Dyson to vacuum the downstairs & stairs. Usually, the boys are all over the vacuum. They love climbing on it, pushing it over, turning it on. It's one expensive jungle gym for them. But that day was different. As soon as Ben saw me bring it out, the whimpering began in earnest. I thought, I don't have time for this, get over it, kid. (I'm such a compassionate and caring parent sometimes!) and proceeded to vacuum.

It's not a good sign when you can hear the wailing of your child above the noise of a full-sized vacuum cleaner. But the stairs weren't going to clean themselves, so I went to work. By the time I finished all 17 steps, Ben was near hysterics. He was having a mini-meltdown. I thought perhaps he didn't like me vacuuming. So I stopped. But it wasn't just the noise that was bothering him. Even after I turned it off, he was still crying and pointing, "Mama, mama, mama, mama!" He didn't stop until I wound it up and put it back in the laundry room & shut the door. Even then, he kept throwing fearful glances toward the closed door, perhaps wondering if the beast would emerge of its own free will.

Benny has been having this reaction to a number of appliances too. It's not limited to vacuums. I now cannot use a hand mixer (no more cookies!), a food processor, any outdoor electrical tools, or a floor fan. It sends him into a breakdown.

Of course, part of me says, "Well, you're never too young to face your fears!" because I don't really want to be inconvenienced by the limited use of this equipment. After all, who wants to spend their time during those precious hours after the kids are asleep with vacuuming?? But right now, it's either that, or have an hysterical toddler on my hands. And of course, when one is hysterical, at least one more, and sometimes two, siblings have to show their solidarity by joining in--it can be a real choir.

So if you're planning on coming by my house in the foreseeable future, please don't plan on clean floors, freshly baked cookies, or the gentle breeze of fans circulating the fragrant air throughout our lovely home.

Who am I kidding? You couldn't count on those things before, anyways!