I’ve always wondered at the question of what I’m afraid of. I knew there had to be something. Now that I have kids, I’ve figured it out: kids. Kids terrify me, and they always have. There are two ways in which kids scare me:
Kids who are inexplicably and profoundly twisted. They exist, you know. There are those kids who murder their parents and revel in the idea of torture. What in the world?! Terrifying.
That thought inevitably leads me to the second way in which kids terrify me: things happening to kids. I can watch a gory movie all day (OK, that’s a major exaggeration, but for the sake of self expression, I’m leaving it in there.), but the minute you bring a little child into it, I’m done. No way. I can’t handle it. The thought of anything terrible happening to kids just sickens, disheartens, and most definitely scares me.
Being a parent has brought me to realizing my worst fears because bad things do happen to children. And children are evil, sometimes to a terrifying degree. Now that I’m a parent, I have to stare that fear directly in the face. I have to spit in its eye and tell it, “greater is he that is in me than he that is in you.” (I sometimes prefer, “You have no power over me,” but whatever works.) And I have to equip my children to fight those things that scare me, because it isn’t an imagined fear, but one that they too may have to face more directly than I want to believe possible. In this way, I have to be brave.