Everyone has fears. You can be tough and say you don’t have one, but everyone has a fear. It can be something as tiny as germs, or something as massive as clowns. I have two major fears. One being Spiders. I hate them, oh I hate the thought, sight, sound , YES spiders make a sound. Its an evil chortle as they descend to get in your hair!
My deep loathing of the arachnid nation has been an ongoing battle since I was tiny. Now at almost 6 foot, and enough years under my belt to know that I’m bigger than they are and so it shouldn’t be a big deal. No matter how many times I tell my brain that, it revolts and tells me it is most definitely a big deal and that it is possible we need to carry a blow torch at times for our protection. When T-Rex was born I vowed to myself I would do all I could to keep from transferring my fears to him. Especially since my husband loves those eight legged freaks. He had two tarantulas for a while, and living in the same space as those tiny terrors was a lot to handle.
Fast forward almost three years. My precious toddler spots a delightful treat, Satan’s little pet. I of course do what I do best in that situation, I scream for my hubby and burst into tears as I grab my child to flee this horrendous situation. My husband decides this is a great opportunity to teach our son about his passion. So sitting in tears I relinquish my favorite little person in the world. He toddles over to his dad and watches as my crazy husband picks up the stupid thing. I am now borderline falling apart into a million pieces. Trying desperately to be a supportive and non-fear transferring mother, I squeak and nod happily as he giggles watching the acrobatics of this demon as it tries to crawl all over to escape. I try calmly to remind them both that handling spiders is not a game and can be dangerous if we do not know the spider.
A week later as I am swinging in the backyard watching my little boy play, I notice him stoop down and start talking to something. He then stands up and is very clearly holding something, and makes his way to the tree. I call out and ask my dear little angel what h is doing. Without skipping a beat he turns, grins, and holds up his tiny clenched fingers and shouts out, ” Mommy , I have a spider! I put him on the tree.” Now it was my turn to not skip, and I yelped and ran screaming drop it drop it drop it.
It was that small moment after admonishing repeatedly how there was not to be picking up spiders unless daddy was there that was a turning point for my son. He now is afraid of spiders and they are everywhere and to be blamed for everything. He stubbed his little toe and when I asked him how it happened he told me a spider made him do it. I try really hard to not just roll laughing at that point. I realize two things very clearly now. 1) I failed in an epic way at not transferring my fears. and 2) the spiders that live around my house are very organized and are responsible for a lot of mischief. My darling boy now has the best cop out ever when asked what happened. Those darn ol spiders did it.