Who's Scared? Not me.

While Aiden and I were at the park we came across this rather scary looking guy:


I don't know if it's a centipede or a millipede or a caterpillar or an alien. It was pretty creepy and I was ready to leave it alone but Aiden insisted on watching it for the full twenty minutes that it took to crawl across the playground.

He waddle-walked the whole time, alternately trying to poke it and squealing in fear, while calling out "MOM-AY! MOM-AY!" the way he has taken to recently. It's funny, but he used to be terrified of bugs, and now he's more interested in them. Last summer he loved to swim, but this year he's becoming more nervous around the water. It's mind blowing to watch him as he learns to overcome certain fears while suddenly developing anxiety about things he never feared before. The newest scary thing? The dark. Suddenly bedtime has gone from poems and stories and a kiss goodnight to anxious hand-holding and repeated reassurances that "everything's okay! I'll be right out here! I won't even close the door all the way!".

In a lot of ways, parenthood has been like that for me. Yesterday I was terrified of him bumping his head on the bars of the crib, or choking on a cheerio, or lead paint in his toys. Those fears are long gone today, but now it's "is he socialized enough? are we too strict with him? would he hate us if we had another baby?". If feel so lucky to have Sean next to me, assuring me that "everything's okay, I'll be right here with you!".