Listen, Buddy

We have a scared two-and-a-half year-old. According to IU's Consumer Psychology Professor Smith (whom I respect a great deal and learned a lot from when taking his class there), fear is one of the emotions humans innately have. It's not learned from society or a child's surroundings, but exists somewhere deep within and can be triggered at any time in our lives.

I find myself gaining comfort from that theory the last few weeks. I keep telling myself it's nothing we did or didn't do as parents, but that it's just something everyone deals with at some point in their lives.

I try to shut off the memories of me holding Bailey and dropping to the floor when we heard what sounded like gunshots outside our window in Indianapolis. Or doing my best to keep her completely quiet as some unknown man knocked on our door there and then looked in the windows as we hid beneath one of the high ones praying he couldn't see or hear us and hoping he wanted someone to be there to let him in and wasn't betting on an empty house.* Or me frantically running through the house shutting all the windows and doors when I received a call from Tony saying there was a man walking down the street attempting every door and walking in if they were unlocked.** Can you see why we wanted out of Indianapolis? Not really our cup of tea and definitely not the place we wanted to raise our child.

[As an aside, the house we moved out of was broken into two weeks after we left with a brick through the back window ... and, mind, we had been told by more than one person how safe that street was before we moved there. Also, we just learned this past weekend that a pit bull in the neighborhood was shot and killed for attacking a man since we left the wretched city. This is the same pit bull that started to turn on Tony after he chased it out of our yard ... and probably would have attacked had its owners not shown up and called for it.]

Anyway, I keep telling myself that it's not because of these events that Bailey is so scared of everything (though, if I'm honest, I still have a nagging feeling that I can't completely discount these things from her level of fear).

Someone knocked on the door the other day, and she ran to me, saying "mommy, don't open it. Don't let anybody in our apartment. I don't want anybody to get me."

Or sometimes she'll hold on to me and say, "mommy, I don't ever want you to leave me." And sometimes it's just "mommy, I'm scared," with absolutely no explanation, even if I try to pry.

A couple nights ago, she was having what must have been nightmare after nightmare. She woke up, came into our room and wanted me to carry her back to bed (usually she walks). So I pick her up and she is as sweaty as can be, her head just drenched, and she's squeezing my neck as tight as she can, almost to the point where I can't lay her down in bed because she won't let go.

Finally, after getting her back to sleep, I hear her crying out "mommy, mommy, mommy" in a scared voice ... obviously still dreaming. Now I've heard you're not supposed to wake up a dreaming child, but I couldn't stop myself. It was painful to hear her cry out so scared, so I shook her a little and said, "Bailey, I'm right here. It's okay. I'm here."

So the crying stops and she's snuggled as close to me as she can possibly get, her whole body now drenched in sweat and shaking besides.

She fell back asleep within minutes and then started saying "I don't want to do it. No!" So I woke her again and told her everything was okay. This time I asked her if she was having a dream.

She replied with "I was afraid that scruffy varmint was going to get me."

Begin silently cursing myself here.

About three months ago, I was in a hurry after story-time at the library and picked up a few books that looked good based on the first couple pages. BAD IDEA. There was one called Listen, Buddy that will forever remain on my list of "do not read to your children" books.

Here's the gist of the story. It's about a family of bunnies. The dad has big eyes and can see really well. The mom has a big nose and can smell really well. And Buddy has big ears, but for some reason doesn't listen very well. Anyway, within the first few pages, it sounded like kind of a funny story. He would bring home 50 tomatoes instead of 15 potatoes ... that sort of thing.

Well, about halfway through, he doesn't listen to his parents and goes the wrong way down a path ... the path that leads to the scruffy varmint. Well, stupidly, I kept reading thinking all the while "it's a child's book, it's definitely going to end well. Who would want to purposely scare a child?"

Well, kind of.

It ends well in a way. Buddy listens after that, but there's nothing ever mentioned of what happened to the scruffy varmint that chased Buddy home. Stupid, stupid book. (And, yes, I'm probably being way too harsh because, chances are, this same book wouldn't affect another child her age the same way at all. But it did. And momma ain't happy about it.)

So I try to cover for the author, do a little ad lib, put a little finalizing at the end, but to no avail. She is still worried about that %$*@# scruffy varmint and I don't have any idea if it will ever go away. We've read at least 100 books since then (literally, she goes through at least 20 a day), but that's the one that sticks. That's the one she worries about whenever the lights are out. That's the one she continually brings up.

We tried explaining it's only a story. Just pretend. Doesn't work.

We tried telling her that book is gone. It's at the library, and the book with the scruffy varmint is never coming to our house again. Doesn't work.

I read her nice stories, say our prayers, make up happy stories before bed. Doesn't work.

She will still randomly say "I'm afraid that scruffy varmint will come to my house."

I'm running out of ideas. Next on the list is going to be telling her Daddy shot it. LOL. Not sure that's the wisest solution, either, or I probably would've already done it. But something in me says that talking to my two year old about getting shot and death isn't the way to calm her fears, so that idea will likely stay tucked away for a bit.

So, if anyone has ANY ideas, I'm begging for advice. I don't remember being so scared as a child. I always thought my mommy and daddy could take care of anything, and as long as they were home I didn't have a thing to worry about.

So, you see, we've come full circle. While I don't believe we put that fear in her to begin with, I do believe there's something we are doing or not doing that's not keeping that fear at bay. I want her to feel safe. Maybe when we move, we'll tell her there's an invisible wall that keeps out the scruffy varmint. That's right, I'm willing to stoop to tall tales to keep her from being afraid. I believe these are termed "white lies," correct?

I've never been good at anything that involves not telling the truth, however, and have a feeling my baby would see right through it. So I'm left with nothing but a scared little girl that I haven't found a way to comfort. Talk about depressing.

*The man knocking on our door and looking in the windows actually turned out to be the tree trimmer our landlord had requested stop by (unknown by myself, at the time, obviously), so kinda funny, but I still wonder about the sensed fear. Plus, why in the world would he look in our windows? Weird.

**The man attempting to walk into unlocked houses was arrested (not his first) less than a block away from our house minutes after Tony called.