Kid Fears

"What would you give for your kid fears?" is one of the lines in one of my favorites songs by the Indigo Girls. It almost sounds like we're supposed to give something to get those fears back, but that makes no sense to me. I have no interest in returning to my childhood fear, yet today it tapped me on the shoulder and said "Hey, I've missed you. Think of me once in a while, won't you?"

I am afraid of fire. I used to be terrified of fire to the degree where I couldn't even light a candle or strike a match. Now I'm merely anxiety-ridden extra cautious around anything that has the potential to burn. I've made progress. Or I had made progress. But last night a home in our friends' neighborhood caught fire and sustained considerable damage. Now I'm anxious all over again.

My fear of fire probably has something to do with almost burning down my house as a child. No, I wasn't playing with matches like some pyromaniac in training. I was merely warming up my baby doll because it was cold outside. You know those bedroom lamps that have a hole in the shade where the bulb shines through the top? When I was little (little enough to be playing with dolls), I decided to warm up my baby's blanket by setting it on top of one of those lamps. When I removed it, it was hot to the touch and I didn't want to burn my baby doll so I laid it on my bed to cool off and went to the living room to watch cartoons.

And then I smelled something burning.

Turns out that blanket was so hot it actually started smoldering and was burning a hole in my mattress. Not good. Because I was afraid of getting in trouble, I waited awhile before telling my parents. Not smart. Once common sense kicked in, I woke them, and the day, and my bedroom, was saved. The mattress, however, had to be replaced.

One small smoldering blanket set me on edge about fire for the next 20 years. I guess time alone allowed me to get to where I am today. Or where I was yesterday. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check the fire detectors. And the chimney. And the electrical outlets. And the fuse box. And the furnace. And the clothes dryer vent...

(It would be entirely appropriate for you to share your kid fears so I don't feel so alone here...)