I usually don't post stuff like this, let alone actually write a new post three times in the same week, but Granny asked me to because it's too cute to pass up and Granny is almost a hundred years old so I figured I should probably indulge her.
This is my girl M. She's so tiny in this picture that I feel like it's ok to post it here. She had just woken up from a nap and her hair was so spectacular that I felt compelled to snap a picture, and eight years later I sure am glad I decided to capture that particular moment in time.
This is my girl's rock. She was four years old when she made it in her class at our little Baptist church's preschool. I mean, obviously she didn't actually make the rock, but she used it for a project of sorts. The class was discussing the nuances of David and Goliath, and her teacher asked each child what they were afraid of and then wrote that fear in permanent marker on a rock. On the back of the rock a sentence was also written that emphasized that with God's help, the child could be brave in spite of their fear.
My girl's fear: grasshoppers. Oh, how I laughed when I read that, but I know that her fear was legitimate. When she was tiny, like barely walking, she loved all creatures. Spiders, beetles, mice, bumblebees, worms, birds...any small creature that was alive, no matter how creepy or crawly, she loved it and wanted to play with it. Then came that fateful day when she was about 18 months old and she spotted a grasshopper sunning itself on our sidewalk. Off she went after it, clapping her tiny hands and shrieking with delight through her pacifier that she loved and from which it took me what felt like a hundred years to wean her. She captured the grasshopper and gently cradled it, holding it close to her face to examine it and talk toddler gibberish to it. That's when The Event happened - that grasshopper launched itself from her hand and landed directly on her tiny nose. It took her about three seconds to realize that the grasshopper's little legs felt awfully scratchy and foreign and she started screaming bloody murder while trying to get it off of her nose. After that happened she was outright terrified of all of those creatures with whom she had previously been so enamored. She was so scared of moving creatures that she was even horrified by bubbles, which I imagine to her little mind probably looked like some mutant flying insects. It took years for me to be able to blow bubbles without her sobbing hysterically.
Now that she's almost ten and her fears center more around girls being cruel at school, friends ditching her for no apparent reason, tornadoes and the horror surrounding my recent seizure (a fear, I might add, that I would trade my eyeballs to remove from her memory), I'm thankful for that time in her life when her biggest fear was to have a grasshopper unexpectedly latch on to her nose. And bubbles. Don't forget those evil bubbles.