Don't sweat the big stuff

I suppose lots of people have conversations like this with their kids. It's still novel around here.

On a recent drive to the Indianapolis Children's Museum, Israel kept slipping his arms out of the shoulder straps of his car seat. (Pat points out it is perhaps time to move him to a big boy booster. I'm not having it...yet.) We tried to convey to him the importance of always wearing his seat belt. You know, in case of an accident.

"You could go flying through the windshield," Pat said.
"But...Super Grover can fly!"
I explained, "Well, you won't fly like Super Grover. Your body will go through the glass and it will hurt."
"And you'll get all cut up and you might die," Pat added, since Israel's face didn't look concerned enough after my explanation.
"But then I will go be with Jesus!" Israel said, like it was one of the best ideas we'd ever had.

Aside from this brief conversation, all the rest of Israel's energy on the ride was tied up in anticipation of seeing the triceratops. But when we arrived, he was afraid of the sounds of the dinosaurs and the storm clouds projected onto the ceiling. He was afraid of getting rained on. I had to go around showing him how the plants and the rocks and all were "fake," and how the dinosaur bones couldn't move and how the people and the museum are just really good at pretending. He hung around for a short while once the "storm" moved in, but was relieved to move on to the next exhibit.

He was also afraid of digging for fossils in the next exhibit.

He's often afraid of people.
He's afraid of shadows, he says. Tree shadows, specifically.
He's afraid of getting water in his eyes.
But he's not afraid of dying.