Irrational

Almost everyone I know has at least one irrational fear.

When we lived in Florida our neighborhood streets had these weird open gutters along the edge of the curb ever so often. I would not let Fletcher walk near them when we went out for family walks around the neighborhood because I was afraid he might slip and fall into them. Then we'd have our own version of baby Jessica (remember her?). I'm not even sure he could have fallen into them, but they looked HUGE to this first time mom and my 2 year old looked so small.

I also don't like to go into banks or convenience stores because I am afraid they will be held up while I am in there. I know. Remember the title of this post. I don't think I could ever work in a bank. If my banking can't be done online or in the drive thru, I'd rather skip it. Or just have Kevin do it.

Enough about me.

But we have a wee bit of a problem.

This has happened twice so far. (The first time I wasn't home so Kevin just told me about it. The second time was almost an identical incident.)

Bathtime at our house is mainly Kevin's responsibility. Always has been because I'm usually cleaning up the kitchen from dinner.

Kevin got all of Luke's clothes and socks off an put him in the tub. Luke starts freaking out. Crying. Screaming. Trying to climb out of the tub.

Is the water too hot? No.

Did he get soap in his eyes? No.

Kevin asks him what is wrong and he points to the water.

Let me insert some background info here: When we were in Louisiana I bought Luke some new socks. He normally wears plain old white athletic socks. These new ones were colorful with big machines on them. Dump trucks, cement trucks, excavators, etc. He loves them.

Some colored fuzz from his feet from the socks is floating in the water.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Fuzz.

Harmless fuzz.

But Luke says, "It scaring me."

Kevin drains the bathtub entirely. Ridiculous? Maybe. But don't judge unless you've been in a very small room with a hysterical two year old. And I don't mean hysterical in a funny way.

He just keeps crying and saying, "Fuzz, fuzz." It would be funny if it weren't so sad.

Have I mentioned that it is absolutely impossible to reason with a two year old?

There is a small black spot on the bottom of our tub in the boys' bathroom. It is just a spot where the paint has chipped off. It is most definitely not fuzz.

Luke thinks it is fuzz. Both mom and dad can't convince him it is not fuzz.

More screaming and crying.

He adamantly refuses to get into the tub.

Kevin drains the tub again. He is such a good dad. I can only imagine what our water bill will look like if this keeps up.

Instead Kevin gives him a "shower bath" with no water at all in the tub. Luke is standing slightly shivering because he won't sit down. Just an occasional cup full of water straight out of the faucet to rinse the soap off.

I dry him off and put his pjs on.

He tells me, "I not wike fuzz."

Thank goodness sandal season is almost here.

So what about you? What is your irrational fear?