Quiet can be a scary thing

Child rearing is filled with numerous moments of abject horror. From the moment when they handed me my first child and I couldn’t stop thinking I was going to drop him to major media reminding me daily that my children are about to be kidnapped by terrorists and made to do Un-American things in foreign lands, every moment is another second where I’m sure I or society at large is going to kill the kids. I’m a nervous wreck. And the kids aren’t helping.

As any stay-at-home parent with more than one child will tell you, a few seconds of peace and quiet is worth its weight in gold. But that same moment of quiet can be terrifying if it takes place when you are out of the room. My older two boys were at school and it was just Tiny Bits, our 18-month-old, and me hanging out. It’s nice to have some one-on-one time with the little guy; time where I can watch him grow, develop and even see his little mind working out how the world works. We had played the morning away, and it was time for a snack. Leaving him on the living room floor playing with his teddy bear, I ran to the kitchen to rustle up some chow.

I wasn’t worried about leaving him alone for a few minutes because he’s going through a “screaming phase,” one of the more “enjoyable” phases of development where children are learning vocal control — and therefore how to scream — quite happily, ALL THE TIME. Luckily this is something they grow out of pretty quickly (or they never do and grow up to be lead singers in heavy metal bands). In other words, I could hear him very well at the other end of our house. And that is why, as I was finishing chopping up his apple, I suddenly froze. I couldn’t hear the baby. The living room was quiet. A little too quiet.

My mind was awash with Wes Craven-fueled images as I ran around the couch to see exactly what he was doing. Had he turned the cat inside out? Had he suddenly figured out how to use the front door and was now out playing in traffic? Had he fallen into an interdimensional gate and now I would have to search the universe for him (that is exactly the kind of thing he would do)? No, he had discovered his toes. He was sitting on the floor, playing with toes. Apparently his toes can hear very well and don’t need to be screamed at. I, on the the other hand, am completely deaf since he looked up at me, saw the bowl of apple slices and happily screamed his head off.

This screaming phase had better stop soon or I’m going to start screaming soon myself.

Originally published on Stltoday.com