I'm not a helicopter parent. Our house is not child-proofed. When we go grocery shopping, there is at least one little lady standing in the cart. I have, on regular occasions, given my small children hard candies.
But here's where I draw the line: no screaming.
Children screaming is my worst nightmare. Literally.
I have NEVER had the kind of nightmares that I do since I've had children. "Waking up heaving and sobbing from the vicious violence that lies in my unconscious" kind of nightmares. The kind can't even describe, they're THAT awful.
You know, BAD. "Bad enough not to print on the Internet" kind of bad.
I also suffer from irrational, conscious fears, like "the driver of that car 50 yards away will somehow lose control and crash into our front yard, so we'd better play in the backyard" kind of fears.
So when I hear a kid screaming, whether it's my own or someone else's, I'm transported to fight-to-flight mode in a frighteningly short amount of time.
Fortunately (?), I prepare to attack. I don't need a phone booth or anything, but I immediately start looking for heavy objects to swing. I run scenarios of what might be happening so I can counter with some brilliant child-saving strategy. I, of course, start yelling, as I run to the source.
Me: WHAT'S GOING ON? WHAT HAPPENED? WHO'S SCREAMING?! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!
V: Oh hey, Mom, we are just playing a game called Princess Tickle Monster and the Princess Tickle Monster is chasing us and we are running away.
Me: Why are you screaming?
V: [speaking slowly for emphasis] Because Princess Tickle Monster is chasing us.
Me: [breathing heavily] Okay.
Then I try to chill after fearing the worst and preparing to fight terrorists, aliens, and other villians and go back to folding laundry or whatever.
Does anyone else get this?
Two years ago: LLLL, in which I pass on traits to my children.
[Note: I started this entry right after the Boston Marathon and could only now finish it with some humor and not sounding completely crazy. Yay for less than completely crazy!]
