Over the past couple of weeks, during the Christmas-slash-New Year break, I’ve been busy. Busy consuming alcohol (probably more alcohol, in fact, than I'd normally consume in an entire year); busy over-indulging on festive food. And, last but not least, I’ve also been busy watching my little man morph from his normally outgoing and cheerful self, into a rather clingy and tearful lad. Now, although my experience with little madam tells me that this stage – the stage that’s known as (according to my faithful advice-giver, Google, anyway) the, ‘stranger anxiety’, phase - will pass eventually, it’s a rather difficult stage to manage, and pretty-well impossible to ignore.
But I guess, given the fact that little man’s now fourteen months of age, I was kind of hoping this particular stage might pass by unnoticed. After all, I remember little madam going through the same stage at a slightly younger age. Unfortunately, though, my hopes were dashed rather recently when my brother – good old Uncle Simon – showed up at our place one evening for dinner. Now I’m sad to say that, due to geographical constraints, work commitments and, particularly, my ability to get caught up in my own hectic life, we don’t see all that much of Uncle Simon; not as much as we’d like to, anyway. Okay, I admit it. I’m a terrible big sister. So terrible, in fact, that in the four-or-so years my one and only brother has lived in his house in the northern suburbs of Melbourne, I’ve only visited him once. Anyway. Back the point of my story. Uncle Simon - who’s about as scary as a butterfly with no wings...well, perhaps that could be quite a scary sight to some, but you get the picture, right? – showed up one evening and was greeted by a very excited little madam (she loves her uncle Simon). But, in addition to being drowned in affection by little madam, he was also given a very up close and personal demonstration of what, specifically, this dreadful and difficult so-called ‘stranger anxiety’ phase entails. I’d actually never seen little man quite as distressed, and he honestly behaved (for a good five minutes at least) as though he’d just come into contact with an unsightly and terrifying monster. I’m afraid poor Uncle Simon may have left, later that evening, with quite a complex following the behaviour he was subjected to. Despite the fact that I tried to explain that little man’s hysterical carry-on shouldn’t be taken personally.
And, like most experiences in life, things often have to get worse before they get better. Well, that’s what I’m hoping anyway, as little man’s most certainly not on the downward slope (with regards to this phase, anyway) quite yet. This was proven a couple of days ago, when a good friend and neighbour decided to pop in for a late afternoon visit. Now, despite the fact that our good friend and neighbour is no stranger to little man, he isn’t a daily visitor either and, therefore, is (through little man’s eyes, at least) a little unfamiliar. And, although little madam was excited, once again, over the prospect of another visitor showing up – particularly our good friend and neighbour who she’s rather fond of - little man didn’t share her enthusiasm, AT ALL. Unfortunately, for our good friend and neighbour, it would also seem that little man’s current ‘stranger anxiety’ phase has worsened and, therefore, he spent a good half-an-hour-or-so (no, this isn’t an exaggeration) carrying on as though he was being attacked by a swarm of stinging bees. And, despite my attempts to appease him – that’s little man, by the way, and not our good friend and neighbour - with cuddles and numerous distractions (I even tried feeding him in the hope that hunger might have been a contributing factor to the overreaction), he didn’t really calm down until our good friend and neighbour eventually excused himself and left – with a complex, too, no doubt. And, perhaps, an ego not dissimilar to Uncle Simon’s wounded one. Again, I would like to say (for the benefit of our good friend and neighbour, Justin) the fact that little man behaved as though you were subjecting him to some awful means of torture, by simply just being present, shouldn’t be taken personally.
So, in summary, all I can do is shrug, and hope that little man’s current ‘stranger anxiety’ stage comes to an end soon. Although, I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic by any means. After all, it must be horrible for little man to find himself reduced to tears at the mere sight of a stranger. And I’m fairly certain it’s equally as unpleasant for those unfortunate few who’ve been subjected to one of little man’s recent hysterical outbursts; from family and friends, to strangers. Like that poor guy in the post office the other day; the one who dared to smile and say, “Hello”, to little man. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was found, after leaving the post office that day, in front of a mirror looking hard for his second head, thanks to the terrified wailing little man subjected him to, while he was stuck behind us in the queue.
Thanks, little man, for scaring away all our visitors lately. I’m actually planning on utilising your present skill next time we receive a knock on the door from an unwanted salesman. Love you!
No comments:
Post a Comment