Lions, Nonna!

“Lions, Nonna!”

When she was four-years-old, my granddaughter enjoyed watching the nature channel. One Saturday, we got a worried call: “Daddy told me that you and Grandpop are going to visit Auntie in Africa,” she said. “Did you know there are dragons there?” She went on to tell me that although these dragons were very small, she thought they might breathe fire. I assured her that we would wear sturdy shoes and watch our step. 

Dragons, I thought. Something a child would worry about.  I was more worried about clean drinking water and bathroom facilities. Our daughter, in Namibia where she was serving in the Peace Corps, had assured us that she had a latrine. Asked to describe it, she had said, “Spacious.” This was not the adjective I hoped to hear. But dragons were real for our granddaughter. She knew her fairy tales. She was truly concerned.

Kids worry about a lot of things. When I was teaching I often had to soothe ruffled nerves about things adults would not think twice about. Thunderstorms topped the trauma list.  Boomers could start a rolling hysteria in a primary classroom. Flickering lights caused shrieks. I bravely battled many a bee that buzzed into our room. A bug in the sink was a real freak-out for all. 

Mechanical things scare kids too. Escalators rise from subterranean depths and disappear again into the floor. Could a little foot or little person be pulled inside also? A whirring blender makes a great milkshake but looks too much like a tornado in a bottle for comfort. Lawnmowers, fans, revolving doors and motorcycles jangle the nerves of our little friends.

Adults sometime attempt to push past the fears of children.  

“Come on,” they say, “that little dog won’t hurt you.”

“That slide isn’t so high. Just get on, you’ll enjoy it!”

“This water isn’t so deep.  Hold your nose and jump.”

“ Give Aunt Gertrude a kiss.”

Kids balk and cling. Many don’t even want to admit that they are frightened.

Fear isn’t cool.

Do you remember when you took your first ride on your new two-wheeler? Wasn’t it great to have those training wheels that held you up? Remember the day you decided to take them off and how your mom or dad ran alongside while you pedaled furiously and pleaded, “Don’t let go!” 

Good parents don’t let go. They stay close until you lose your fear, until you are confident enough to take off on your own. They don’t push you; they hold you up. 

           

A few minutes after I hung up that Saturday, my granddaughter called back. “I just saw that they have big snakes in Africa.” Our daughter had told us about the scary green snake that had slithered into her hut. I told the little sweetie that we knew about the snakes and, that since we were visiting Africa in winter, we didn’t think we would see too many. Silently I added, “I hope!” I thanked her for wanting to take such good care of us. She seemed satisfied and, after passing the phone to her father, went back to her show. 

           

Suddenly, I heard her shriek “Lions, Nonna!”