Reason #422 for therapy

My dear son has turned into a scaredycat. I don't know exactly when it happened, but it is really cute. Someday it may not be, when he decides he is deathly afraid of Gramma or Grampa, but right now it is cute.
Example: Three weeks ago I discovered that when I get the vacuum out the baby will crawl up my husbands leg, screaming, shaking and crying to get away from it. Mind you, a few weeks before (the vacuum had been broken for a while folks,) he used to sit in his high chair and happily watch as I vacuumed back and forth. Sometimes he would even be on the floor getting in the way of the vacuum. Not anymore. I have never seen anything like it. The look of sheer terror on his face when he sees the thing is almost heartbreaking.
Almost.
We keep the vacuum in the hall closet. In the same hallway, just opposite of this closet there is a nightlight plugged into the wall. That baby tries to pull it out of the wall whenever he gets a chance. Now, instead of just unplugging the nightlight (too easy) we tell him "no, don't touch that" and remove him from the vicinity. That usually gets tiring. I came up with a new method of nightlight protection. I like to call it "vacuum cleaner guardian". The last time he tried to pull the light, I opened the closet, and showed him the vacuum. He high tailed it out of there, and quick. So now all I have to do is open the closet door when he is in that hallway. I guess that this sounds really cold blooded. Or maybe it seems like psychological torture. I am not beating him with it, I don't make him cry, and it works. He is not afraid of the hallway itself, because if he was, he wouldn't feel the need to go in there to open and bang shut the towel closet.
Moving on.
Last Monday I was at my sister in laws house kind of late, so I decided to give the baby a bath over there. When I put him in her bathtub, he freaaaked out. Totally. He would not sit down. I had to bathe him standing up, holding on to my neck, chattering like a monkey. (the baby was chattering, not me) This was so strange. Just a couple weeks ago he was actually frolicking in my mothers bathtub, but not now. At home, he takes a bath in our kitchen sink, easier on my back, and arms. (We live in an old-ass condo and the showerdoors are those kind on a track with glass that has never seen Lime Away, ever. I guess I could clean them, but we are getting out of here shortly so why bother.) In the sink the baby only has room to splash. I guess he feels more secure in the sink. I thought it was because my SIL tub is huge, but he did basically the same thing at my moms the next night. Go figure.

This parenting thing is really neat. It seems like every couple of weeks some new and improved quirk, or personality trait pops up. I love it. It is fun being a mom. When I am not complaining about it, that is. Even then I am loving it.

I love you baby, someday you can read this and see what a freak yor Mommy is, and why you have to go to therapy.
xoxoxox