Or like when he went through the first surge of separation anxiety (how many of these are there by the way? It seems there are multiple. Why?!). He spent about 2 weeks attached to my hip and wouldn’t go near any adult he hadn’t seen for over 24 hours. I know now that this was a phase. But at the time, my mad mother worrying logic calculated the following:
Baby is nervous around adults and also children, which means baby doesn’t like people, which means he isn’t going to have many friends, which means he’ll be by himself in the school playground and could be picked on and bullied.
Oh my God.
Cue making a mental note to enrol him into karate classes so at least he could defend himself when he got older.
I’m pleased to say I still haven’t enrolled him. And if I now do, it’ll be because I want him to enjoy a sporting activity rather than learn to beat other children up like some kind of mini Bruce Lee.
These days I am slightly less worried about Little Z and will gladly leave him at the grandparents and run like hell to the nearest restaurant or shopping centre (I am joking, obviously). I’ve accepted the mad mother high worry levels post baby are here to stay for, probably, forever but I know I’ve relaxed a bit and mostly have a grip on them. I realised this during a slightly surreal conversation with the OH over the blissful lazy Christmas and New Year holiday period.
Our conversation placed Little Z in various hypothetical situations that we’d either spotted on telly or seen in the news.
(I have to stress here, we hadn’t left the house for a few days and all thought processes were descending into the slightly bizarre)
Have you seen the secret of Crickley Hall? Its a supernatural drama about the deranged ghost of a headmaster. There is a scene in it where he actually leans over the sleeping face of a woman and whispers that the children are “mine” in such an eery way i nearly switched it off that instant.
This would just be a red rag to Little Z though. God forbid anyone utters the word “mine!” and he will instantly let you know who is the real owner of, well, the item in question is not important. It is ALWAYS his. The message is usually enforced with a full on tantrum and swift swipe of said item in question. That mansion wouldn’t need any kind of exorcism. It just needs a Little Z type toddler to go in and declare who is in possession of anything here. Oh, and that cane is his too, thank you very much.
Second scenario to be discussed was if an eagle attempted to swipe him away (after having watched a supposed real video of an eagle doing something similar in Canada).
Now Little Z is not as fat or heavy as the toddler in the video but we know he’d be fine as he would utilise his new found weapon of choice. Biting.
Where did this come from? And why am I the prime target. He seems to like doing it in the midst of being excited mainly, and will want to dig his teeth into my arm or leg, whichever happens to be in closest proximity. There’s been a few surprised screams on my part over the last week or so. At the moment he thinks it’s hilarious. That eagle would have no chance.
There were a couple more including the boring and important one that was too scary for me to acknowledge just yet. How will Little Z cope in nursery? I know I need to put his name down soon and I know it will be ok. He’s now fairly sociable and will either hover around shyly or, if he’s feeling brave, actually run to within someone else’s comfort zone and declare a big “Hello!” then grin expectedly.
So yes! I know worry less about some things (such as eagles/ wildlife/ ghostly apparitions swiping him away) and worry more about nurseries and letting him out into the big bad world. I think this is definitely progress.