Hangin' On

That would be us, only the squirrel looks far more comfortable than us. Three months down and still no work. 

Our Deepest Fears

Fear is something that's been peddled around a lot this past decade or so. Fear of the unknown, fear of people who pray to different gods or speak in different languages or who love differently. We've done a lot, or condoned a lot in the name of fear... choosing to grasp onto that which makes us different rather than that which unifies us. I try not to live my life according to fear but having a small person in training under my care has changed that in many ways. 

When Aidan was born the first fear was that he had all his proper bits and pieces not too many bits and certainly not too few pieces. Then he flunked his hearing test and that launched a year long fear that he was deaf. Then when we realized he wasn't we picked a new fear, autism, and I would carefully watch to see if he laughed or made eye contact or arranged his toys in certain ways. These fears were so consuming that regular fears like not feeding him shellfish until after his first birthday escaped us and our undeaf, unautistic baby boy was happily munching on shrimp shu mai long before he turned one. 

As he got older our fears turned to corners and bright green fluids that look like something yummy but definitely were not. We managed not to wrap our apartment in foam but we did put child safety locks on every cabinet and drawer. With every milestone we discover a new fear and we're faced yet again with that choice of whether to conquer it or to give in to it. Do we sleep with the window's open or do we put up iron bars?

At least, that's how the fear manifests for me. For my still unemployed Wife the fear comes in her worrying over finding a job. Endlessly searching through job listings and in constant communication with colleagues and former coworkers she struggles over the fear of being homeless of having to sell off our possessions and move back in with our parents. So she locks herself away in the spare room, studies technical manuals and emails strangers hoping for that one lead at that one company who wants her just as much as she wants them. 

For our son, his fears are different. He fears falling into the toilet while he goes to the bathroom. He fears being left alone or having to sleep alone. He demands that we hold on to his leg while he sleeps and in the middle of the night, he'll blindly flail around with his hands to make sure we're still there. He fears he won't have enough to eat and he jealously guards his food and shrieks, "MINE!" when I try to grab one of his crackers. But mostly though, he's deeply afraid of being eaten. 

I guess it all started when he was a wee little baby. I would playfully nibble on his little cute hands and say, "I'm going to eat you!" and he would squeal and laugh. Little did I know I was sowing seeds of fear and terror. 

The other day the Wife and Aidan when to a well known resturant that features a large anthropomorphic mouse as a mascott. The picture at the start of this entry is from that trip. As you can see, Aidan is not having fun. Later that night I asked him about his visit and he was enthused and excited as he told me of the whack-a-mole game and stuffing his face with pizza. But when I asked him about the big mouse he got quiet and it almost seemed as if he got physically smaller. 

I hugged him and asked him what was the matter but he just pulled closer to me and looked down and away and wouldn't say anything. I asked him if he was scared of the mouse and in the smallest whisper, a whisper that was barely more than a chilled breath, a whisper that made my heart sink, he said "...yeah...".

I hugged him closer, "What's wrong? Why did the mouse scare you? You like little mice, right?"

He looked up at me. His eyes conveyed a desperateness, the sort of pleading cry for security that only the very young can convey to the people they trust fully and in that same hushed quiet still voice said, "... mouse eat me..."

"Mouse eat you?" I asked... choking back the bales of laughter.

"...yeah..." he whispered. He was serious, he was in the grips of his fear, as he looked away I could see the flash of a pain and shame so deep and so earnest. I held him as the laughter bubbled it's way out of the deep darkness of my soul. 

"The mouse doesn't eat you." I comforted him as my face broke into a big cheshire grin. The guffaws came, there was nothing I could do. 

"Mouse eats me." he said again all earnest and sad and more than a little hurt that I didn't believe him. 

An Allegory for the Trinity

My son loves the Pixar movie Cars, if we let him, he'll watch and rewatch that movie all day long... happily and contently the way some people pray or meditate. 

As with any religion, Baby is completely taken with the central character, Lightning McQueen, and owns shoes, books and numerous toys engraved with his image. When we bought him his first McQueen car, a small matchbox style diecast car, he was in love. He would take that little car everywhere always clutching it tightly in his little hands. His love was so perfect that he would clutch that little toy car as he slept. So when he lost it we realized there was only one thing we could do... we rushed out and bought another McQueen car for him. This one was larger in hopes that it would be harder to lose. Eventually Baby's aunt learned of his devotion and for Christmas he received a Lego type McQueen car a present. It was around this time we also found the first toy car that fallen behind his changing table. 

So now he has three cars, each the same yet unique. And each car has a special purpose and fills a unique need. The first car, the smallest one, he calls "Baby McQueen car". It is this car that accompanies his on his outings. Small enough to slip into his pocket he carries Baby McQueen with him everywhere. The larger diecast McQueen car has no special name and it stays in his room. The rear axle is bent and the car doesn't roll freely and often it gets neglected. Hidden under books, tossed in with other toys but it's always there for him should he go looking. The final McQueen car, " 'eggo McQueen" is the toy that he loves the most dearly. This is the one he can take apart and re-arrange. When he decided the aggressively portrayed eyes were scarey, he took them off. When he decided he liked them, he put them back on. Sometimes McQueen shares parts with the 'Mater and for a while he sported a little police siren from another set. But it's always " 'eggo McQueen" and Baby looks for this toy when he sleeps and even in the middle of the night his little hand gropes around in the dark searching for the comforting touch of the cool plastic.