I try to discourage irrational fears in my children. Each one has a few, but don't we all? One won't blow his/her nose for fear that it may end up in his/her mouth rather than the tissue. Another refuses to sing when asked for fear of "messing up", but ask this child not to and have fun trying to stop her! Then there are the normal childhood phobias; monsters under the bed, not going downstairs alone in the dark, finding mushrooms in the spaghetti sauce...stuff like that. But my youngest Buddy has developed the strangest fear I have ever heard of.
Since I started by having three girls, I didn't really have to worry about "potty messes". To put it delicately, girls sit down. Enough said. When I found out I was having my boys, the first thing everyone felt the need to warn me about was every male child's innate inability to aim. I shrugged it off thinking, if that's the worst thing I have to deal with...I own a mop. Potty training the Buddies actually proved itself quite easy. I even ended up with one sitter! I was patting myself on the back and chuckling internally at all the naysayers.
About a year or so ago, Buddy #2 decided he wasn't going to be a sitter...at all. I walked in on him a few times unsteadily hovering over the bowl. Rather than question and embarrass this particularly private boy I just made up reasons for myself. I assumed the seat was cold or I had walked in just as he was getting ready to leave. But after the fourth or fifth time my curiosity got the better of me. I broke down and finally asked why he poised so precariously over the potty.
"Spiders, Mama. A spider may bite my bum."
I assured him that spiders definitely do NOT live in toilets.
Seven years ago we bought a 60 year old house that was rather questionably constructed. We had started to lovingly renovate it until we realized that putting all the paint and light fixtures on the existing house were the equivalent of trying to use string and white glue to put together a T-Rex skeleton before displaying it in a museum. I will admit, there are holes big enough that a dinosaur could slip right in undetected. So spiders have been a bit of a problem. But in the toilet??
I hoped that my motherly consolation would be enough to rid him of his phobia, but a few weeks ago I happened by a partially opened bathroom door. It was apparent my acrobatic little boy had not yet been relieved of his anxiety. I tenderly took him aside later that day and asked him if he knew where this fear came from. Surely there had to be a source! He admitted it had been a nightmare he never quite recovered from. This revelation was made the week my family and I had contracted a flu bug so my poor little Buddy's legs were quite achy from repeatedly trying to support his weight while in a half sitting position. As we commiserating on the couch with the "T" part of the B.R.A.T. diet, I reminded him that dreams are not real and that a spider would rather die than take up residence in a yucky toilet. He was convinced and happy that he didn't have to hover anymore.
When the next wave of the flu's nastiness hit, I helped my little man to the washroom and was happy to see the "issue" had been resolved. I closed the door and a wave of nausea swept over me. I knew better than to wait for the upstairs facilities to become unoccupied so I ran to the basement bathroom, knelt on the floor, and came face to face with what may as well have been a tarantula spinning a web...in the toilet.
Obviously, it was the spider who was crazy because I KNOW spiders do not live in toilets. He was probably an old spider with dementia. I put him out of his misery and gave him a burial at septic and my son remains fearless....until he finds out Mama has a blog.
Since I started by having three girls, I didn't really have to worry about "potty messes". To put it delicately, girls sit down. Enough said. When I found out I was having my boys, the first thing everyone felt the need to warn me about was every male child's innate inability to aim. I shrugged it off thinking, if that's the worst thing I have to deal with...I own a mop. Potty training the Buddies actually proved itself quite easy. I even ended up with one sitter! I was patting myself on the back and chuckling internally at all the naysayers.
About a year or so ago, Buddy #2 decided he wasn't going to be a sitter...at all. I walked in on him a few times unsteadily hovering over the bowl. Rather than question and embarrass this particularly private boy I just made up reasons for myself. I assumed the seat was cold or I had walked in just as he was getting ready to leave. But after the fourth or fifth time my curiosity got the better of me. I broke down and finally asked why he poised so precariously over the potty.
"Spiders, Mama. A spider may bite my bum."
I assured him that spiders definitely do NOT live in toilets.
Seven years ago we bought a 60 year old house that was rather questionably constructed. We had started to lovingly renovate it until we realized that putting all the paint and light fixtures on the existing house were the equivalent of trying to use string and white glue to put together a T-Rex skeleton before displaying it in a museum. I will admit, there are holes big enough that a dinosaur could slip right in undetected. So spiders have been a bit of a problem. But in the toilet??
I hoped that my motherly consolation would be enough to rid him of his phobia, but a few weeks ago I happened by a partially opened bathroom door. It was apparent my acrobatic little boy had not yet been relieved of his anxiety. I tenderly took him aside later that day and asked him if he knew where this fear came from. Surely there had to be a source! He admitted it had been a nightmare he never quite recovered from. This revelation was made the week my family and I had contracted a flu bug so my poor little Buddy's legs were quite achy from repeatedly trying to support his weight while in a half sitting position. As we commiserating on the couch with the "T" part of the B.R.A.T. diet, I reminded him that dreams are not real and that a spider would rather die than take up residence in a yucky toilet. He was convinced and happy that he didn't have to hover anymore.
When the next wave of the flu's nastiness hit, I helped my little man to the washroom and was happy to see the "issue" had been resolved. I closed the door and a wave of nausea swept over me. I knew better than to wait for the upstairs facilities to become unoccupied so I ran to the basement bathroom, knelt on the floor, and came face to face with what may as well have been a tarantula spinning a web...in the toilet.
Obviously, it was the spider who was crazy because I KNOW spiders do not live in toilets. He was probably an old spider with dementia. I put him out of his misery and gave him a burial at septic and my son remains fearless....until he finds out Mama has a blog.
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