Over the past few months, Chloe has started taking on a spirit of fear. It started somewhat understandably enough, Chloe was deathly afraid of flies, or anything that kindasorta looked like a fly. They are annoying enough, and if you had never seen one before, I could see how it would be a little unsettling to have one buzzing in your ears or divebombing your face.. I'll never forget the first time she reacted to one. It was a Sunday morning. Chloe was in our room puttering around, I was in the kitchen, and Patrick was in the shower shaving when we heard the most heart-wrenching scream to ever make its way out of our child's lips. I jumped a foot and Patrick sliced his neck, then both of us came running. We saw Chloe sitting in the corner trembling, weeping, and pointing. Pointing to a fly. You can only imagine the mixture of emotions we felt when we saw the object of her terror. Since then, we have had to strategically place a throw rug on our bathroom floor to cover up a black mark in the linoleum that Chloe is convinced is a bloodsucking fly. Even now as she seems to be on friendly terms with flies, even professing her love for them, she still won't even come in the door if the mark is peeking out from under the rug.
Various other creatures and objects have become sources of great anxiety over the past few months. We had a few weeks where the vacuum cleaner could only enter the room after I built a fort around her on the couch to keep her safe. Then there was the candle era. She refused to even enter a room if a candle was burning, even if it was 5 feet off of the ground. Then, the sound of buses or big trucks. Or trains. Then specks of dust or dirt. All were things she has been around since birth, things that she sings songs about, many of them things she
likes,
making this all even harder to understand. Yet however bizarre all of those phases were, the present one takes the cake.
It started yesterday when we needed to leave for errands. Normally I open the door and Chloe rushes out and stands by her cardoor while I fumble along with Eli and the twenty bags full of necessities for our half hour outing. We were walking out when Chloe jumped and stopped dead in her tracks. Thinking she forgot her beloved Dolly, I sidestepped her, told her to go get Dolly, and went ahead to the car. I got Eli all strapped in, unloaded my bags, and turned to go get Chloe and shut the door. To my surprise, she was still standing there, frozen, with tears rolling down her cheeks. I called to her, she refused to come. I picked her up and put her in the car, not giving it a second thought. Fast Forward. We came home, got unloaded, and I sent her to the house. She stopped on the yard side of the doormat, trembling, crying, pointing. I couldn't figure out what was going on. The only thing out of the ordinary anywhere near the doormat was a leaf that had blown into the corner. I picked it up and threw it into the yard. She still wouldn't move so I carried her in. Fast Forward to this morning. Time to leave for errands again. Same thing. Stop at door, cry, yell, point. No amount of coaxing would get her out the door. I pick her up and carry her to the car. Fast Forward more. We come home laden with bags of groceries and boxes of diapers. I put Chloe down next to the car, on the concrete parking pad. I get Eli out and head toward the house, turn to call for Chloe, and can't believe what I see. Chloe is
still standing right where I left her. Bawling, crying, and once again, pointing.
Me:"Chloe what's wrong?"
Her: (sniffle, snub, wail, point)
Me:"Chloe it's ok. Tell mommy, what's wrong?"
Her:"Leeeeeeeeef"
Me: "What did you say sweetie?"
Her:"Leef. Leef"
Me:"Leaf? Seriously?? Leaf??" (pick up leaf)
Her: "BWAAAAAAAAAH" (plasters self against car, screams)
Me: "It's a
leaf. You
like leaves
."Her: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"
This time, refusing to give in to the insanity, I walk on toward the house, coaxing her to follow. Several agonizing minutes pass, when she finally takes a step, keeping a wary eye on the grass. She slowly walks toward the house, never leaving the center of the concrete. Never erring to the right or left, straight and narrow all the way. Then she notices a leaf dangerously close to the sidewalk, ready to pounce out and maim her. Terrified, she breaks into a run, finally ending the painfully slow trail of tears. Just outside the door she demands to be picked up and carried in, still not brave enough to walk near the leaf's essence that remains in the corner.
Eventually we make it inside without casualty. I close the door. Instantly she runs to it, plants her face against the glass, and yells "Hey leaf! See ya later!" Sigh.
