Attack, Rescue, Therapy

This morning I was in Lianna's room helping her get ready when I heard Brooks start to cry. At first I didn't pay much attention. He often cries when he's frustrated that a toy isn't doing what he wants it to do. After a few seconds I realized, this was a "new" cry. (which is odd because he's 19 months old) I thought I'd heard them all.

I'm tired cry

I'm hungry cry

I'm frustrated cry

I'm mad cause she stole my toy cry

What could this new cry be? I bolt into the living room to find my little boy being backed against the wall by a humongous cockroach. I quickly rush to his aid, scooping him into my arms and we run back to the safety of Lianna's room. After gathering some courage I bring Brooks back into the living room so he can watch me squash is attacker with my preferred weapon, my peach colored flip flop. I then take him in my arms once again while I get a paper towel and he helps me dispose of the body. I wanted to show him that even though I'm terrified too, we can beat these things because we're like a million times their size. I think it's too late though, I think he's traumatized. We may need to seek professional help. After returning from the swimming pool this afternoon, he refused to get off the couch and walk to his room until I came and took his hand, even then he walked on his tip toes.

Apparently Darrell was right (go ahead, put it on the calendar dear). I have now instilled my own fears into my children. Next thing I know he will be afraid of snakes, rats, heights, wont want to swing very fast or high, or go on roller coasters. Dear Lord... what have I done?!?