High Anxiety

Bedtime is a time of high anxiety in our house.  I feel like maybe we should just start putting Xanax in the toothpaste around here.  We could all use it.  Or, you know, more of it, as the case may be.

I sympathize with the kids.  I really do.  When I lay down at night, the wheels of my mind start turning, and it's hard to turn them off.  I've had many years of therapy life to learn how to slow those wheels down, and it's still hard.

I worry about everything.  Bills.  Doctor's appointments.  Doctor's appointment bills.  The whole potty-training situation.  The struggles that my kids have, and will have, and may have, and may never have.

And stupid stuff.  I keep forgetting to water the lawn.  That damn sod requires more attention than a dehydrated toddler.  The grass is drying out in places, but these crazy Texas weeds are growing like crazy, and they defy my weed-whacker.  Especially annoying is the fact that they sneakily avoid the lawnmower by growing all low and creepy-like. You could weave tents out of these weeds.  If Hurricane Fiona is headed here, I'm going to tether down my windows using these weeds.

So I get it when the kids start in with their worries at night.  I get it that to them, these worries are as big and real as doctor's bills and the dying gasp of my 401(k) plan.

With school starting, Little Dude's worries have ramped up.  He often needs clarification on what is real, and what isn't.  I'm not sure if this is just a factor of being four years old, or having Asperger Syndrome, or just living in a world in which Paris Hilton is something called a "celebutante."  Probably it's some combination.   Anyway, here is a list of his recent bedtime questions:

Are clowns real?
Are bullies real?
Are the Fresh Beats real?

Is Indiana Jones real?

There's a new one almost every night.  Sometimes they're hard to answer.  Clowns are real, but they're actually humans wearing a bunch of crap on their faces and mismatched outfits.  They are real and creepy as all get out.  But that is not what you're supposed to say to a four-year-old if you ever want him to sleep again.  So I say, "Clowns are just people playing dress-up."

Bullies are sadly real.  There's been, already, some pushing of Little Dude by a little jerk (mini-Mind Punch?) in his preschool.  What can I say?  Bullies are real, but I wish they weren't.

The Fresh Beats?  Ye Gods.  The Fresh Beat Band is this show that Little Dude loves.  I have a hard time following the plot of each episode, but I do enjoy watching Little Dude shake his booty to the music.  I've seen several episodes, but I still don't know how to answer Little Dude's question, "Are they real?"

The Indiana Jones one is the easiest, because Indy is a character played by Harrison Ford, who also plays Han Solo in Star Wars.  Harrison Ford is kind of like a god in our house.  Little Dude is almost always humming the theme to Raiders of the Lost Ark, or the theme to Star Wars.  He has a brown fedora like Indy's, and he wears it everywhere.  And he looks awesome.
  
Sometimes, Little Dude's worry-questions lead me down a path of bedtime-stalling insanity.

Little Dude: Are bears real?
Mommy: Yes, but they don't live around here.  They live in the zoo.
LD: Just in the zoo?
M: Yes.
LD: Are they in special cages?
M: Yes.
LD: Good thing they're in special cages.  Pause.  Can bears escape from their cages?
M: No.
LD: Why?
M: Because they're special cages.
LD: Do they make special cages for alligators and bears?
M: Oh, yes.
LD: Okay.  Pause.  Are piranhas only in the ocean?
M: Um, they're in a river in the rain forest.  Far away.  In South America.
LD: Is that in Texas?
M: No, it's another part of Earth.
LD: Are we ever going to move there?
M: No.
LD: Why?
M: Well, for starters, because they have piranhas there.


Potentially, this can go on and on, until I find myself explaining the entire chronology of Scott Baio's television career or something equally relevant.  I can't just say, "we'll talk about it in the morning," and skip out, because he'll just lay there, worrying, not falling asleep.  Eventually we'll have to play that fun game called Musical Beds. And that is a game I always lose.