Last week I had the opportunity to take three of my children to a special Sneak Peek of the new Jackie Chan movie coming out this month The Spy Next Door. It was at a venue in San Francisco (The City, to us locals) which meant a drive across the Golden Gate Bridge. At rush hour. In the rain. It took us over 2 hours. We live 26 miles away. Fun times! Actually, the length was expected and we got to the showing 30 minutes early. Which was perfect timing! It helps being a native Bay Arean (that could totally be a word!)
At some point, while we were driving around The City looking for parking, Sean started asking about earthquakes. And freaking out just a smidge. He’s not used to tall buildings and we were down on Market St. I re-assured him all was well, that these buildings were old and had withstood big earthquakes and lived on. Nothing was going to crumble down on us. We were safe.
And I thought that was that. He enjoyed the movie and slept on the way home.
And then when we got home and all went to bed, he completely freaked out. Bawling, shaking, near hysterical. He was terrified that an earthquake was going to happen and kill me. He was inconsolable and literally cried himself to sleep in my arms.
My poor poor little boy. He woke up fine in the morning, all forgotten. And he hasn’t mentioned it since.
And I’ve thought of nothing but. I don’t know how to properly comfort him when he gets like this. It’s like his mind gets stuck and he can’t hear me.
This has happened before. He gets an idea in his head and there’s no budging him from it. Thank goodness this was just for a few hours one evening.
He’s still determined to raise the Titanic!
Oh my goodness! When my youngest was 5 he was obsessed with death. This obsession was reinforced each time we passed a cemetery. He just knew we were all going to die and there was the proof! He's grown out of it, but it is an unsettling feeling, isn't it?