Last night, 1 a.m., and the house is quiet. The windows are open to let the evening breeze cool the 2nd floor where we sleep. I am half awake, and I hear a little electronic “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” from across the hall. I wonder if Alex is awake and playing with Fredbird or if he somehow hit the stuffed animal by accident. Then I hear footsteps in the hallway. “Alex?” I say.
He is standing next to the vacuum cleaner when somewhere outside, someone sets off a bunch of noisemakers. Pop! Pop! Pop! Popopopopopopopop!
Alex wails. It is unbelievably loud in the quiet house. Christian rises up roaring–and I mean roaring. “It’s okay, it’s okay!” I say, trying to keep my voice down, but they can’t hear me. They’re both completely freaked out, and feeding each others’ terror. Christian and I both fly out of bed to comfort Alex, who apparently thinks the vacuum cleaner has come to life and is going to eat him. Christian gets there first and won’t let me have Alex, because he’s terrified, too, and he wants to cling to Alex for comfort. But Alex is having none of it. He wants the parent that didn’t scare him! He lurches into my arms, and we lie on the bed together, his toddler heart doing a veritable drumroll against my chest.
I spend the next hour lying in Alex’s bed so he’s not scared to go back to sleep. But I can’t get close to going to sleep myself.
Who needs sleep anyway?
[...] I have to chuckle sometimes at the difference between my children. Alex began his life terrified of the vacuum cleaner, and at 3 ½ he remains highly skittish. The vacuum goes on, and Alex runs off and closes the door. (Check out the blog from June 23 of 2007.) [...]