Jack has this awesome toy at the moment, it’s a hand-length, sticky centipede that you throw at the wall or roof and it slowly peels itself off, to be caught or whatever. Jack has decided it’s his ‘spider’ and he loves it. He likes the real things too, sometimes. Usually when he sees one he tries to pick it up – giving me mini heart attacks in the process – or, he stomps decidedly on it, which I generally prefer, although I find hard to do myself. It’s very much play or die in our place, according to Jack.
I think the fear of things is mostly learned – any psych people feel free to correct me here. My brother and I used to love Huntsman spiders. Yes, we really did, we called them ‘Mateys’ and were thrilled to the back teeth when they hung out in our rooms for a week or so as we understood they ate all the bad spiders. When I see one on the wall or roof now, however, I am absolutely certain if I go anywhere near them they will go all kamikaze and thrown themselves into my hair or something. Of which, would cause me to certainly die on the spot. Continue reading