After one eye squints open I say in best reassuring voice, "It's ok, Honey, it's just the milk man."
I can see the mix-up.
Sometimes our minds conjure up all sorts of things. But why are they usually the weird, crazy, scary stuff? I mean, unless it's Christmas (when every sound is Santa's reindeer), each little creak, or thump, or house sigh is Frankenstein searching for his brain, or crazy birds attacking through the chimney.
Unfortunately, it isn't just the noises at Halloween. I do the same thing with my children. If one of them has a high fever for a couple of days, somewhere in the back of my mind I start seeing sick pigs or those crazy birds, and imagine swine flu or bird flu or Jack and the Beanstalk flu. I keep calm, of course, for my kids' sake, but inside I feel a little panic.
But why do I jump straight to scary instead of to flying reindeer when I'm coming to a conclusion about something unusual? Take, for instance, my youngest son--last week he informed me he has a big bump on the back of his head that had been there all week. Well, I tried thinking back, remembering any falls or collisions or soccer injuries, but couldn't come up with anything. I guessed perhaps it was a swollen lymph node or reaction to a recent bee sting. That's what I said out loud, at least.
But, as soon as I finished reading our good-night story, the first thing I did was google head/neck bumps. A few things showed up, such as swollen lymph nodes and allergic reactions, and a few unpronounceable cancers. I called the doctor in the morning and took him in. She wasn't too reassuring and ordered an ultrasound. So, I was still saying outloud it was probably just a big fatty lipoma or weird cyst, but inside I was fearing the worst.
Over the weekend I had several panic moments, imagining what could be wrong with my little son, even wondering what I would do without his cheerful eyes, and sweet your-the-best-mom-in-the-world comments, and his prayers--oh, his prayers, thanking Heavenly Father for everything from the blades of grass and being able to go to church Sunday to Mine Craft and winning his soccer game.
I guess I often fear the worst because I love so much.
But for now, I will try to take the positive approach with this weird bump. I'll tell myself it is an extra growth of brain cells--he's extra-super smart and will be spouting foreign languages and theories of relativity, or maybe he will have super powers like running faster than a bullet or flying--that would be cool, or maybe he is just growing a protective layer of fat around his spinal chord in preparation for all the sports he loves to play. It will be like every day is Christmas, and all those creaks are just reindeer on the roof, and those thumps are just Santa climbing out of his sleigh and the bumps are his toy bag, full of all the fabulous things I wish for for Christmas. Well, I already know what I'm going to ask for this Christmas--I wish for health and happiness for my wonderful family.
