I have 15,454 fears, phobias and anxieties. The older I get, the worse they become. I get nervous at a red light. I shake from the wind rustling the corn field at night. Every little pop and crack of my hip is foreseeable death. These problems are not by choice...
I would love to go parasailing. It seems so freeing – almost flying like a bird, gliding through the air with all your trust tethered to that little motor boat below. I would love to walk across a really high bridge. Something metaphorical about it. It’s just, I have this thing about high bridges, so there goes that.
My son, Ike, is 4 years old and already has no fear when it comes to running toward a street or flipping head-first off any couch. He did, however, grow up with a strong Cynophobia – the fear of dogs.
Dogs of all sizes, colors and bark volume. Even the quietest, calmest Basset Hound would scare Ike to his tiny core. A few encounters as a baby with very loud and nippy dachshunds left a frightening impression on him that has followed whenever a dog hopped, ran, or slept by him. Small, big, puppy or Old Yeller – it did not matter. Until last weekend.
Ike conquered that fear and walked over his metaphorical bridge. At a baby shower, he not only approached a dog – a decent-sized Irish Setter – but stroked his fur with minimal hesitation. It was a moment. He did it and expressed pride too, which is priceless to witness in your child.
We are not about to rush out to get a Rottweiler or anything but it is a step in the right direction. Not only appreciating animals but conquering a little fear that did not need to be there in the first place.
Maybe one day, Ike and I can try parasailing together. He will most likely have to push me over the bridge though.
I would love to go parasailing. It seems so freeing – almost flying like a bird, gliding through the air with all your trust tethered to that little motor boat below. I would love to walk across a really high bridge. Something metaphorical about it. It’s just, I have this thing about high bridges, so there goes that.
My son, Ike, is 4 years old and already has no fear when it comes to running toward a street or flipping head-first off any couch. He did, however, grow up with a strong Cynophobia – the fear of dogs.
Dogs of all sizes, colors and bark volume. Even the quietest, calmest Basset Hound would scare Ike to his tiny core. A few encounters as a baby with very loud and nippy dachshunds left a frightening impression on him that has followed whenever a dog hopped, ran, or slept by him. Small, big, puppy or Old Yeller – it did not matter. Until last weekend.
Ike conquered that fear and walked over his metaphorical bridge. At a baby shower, he not only approached a dog – a decent-sized Irish Setter – but stroked his fur with minimal hesitation. It was a moment. He did it and expressed pride too, which is priceless to witness in your child.
We are not about to rush out to get a Rottweiler or anything but it is a step in the right direction. Not only appreciating animals but conquering a little fear that did not need to be there in the first place.
Maybe one day, Ike and I can try parasailing together. He will most likely have to push me over the bridge though.