Friday, August 22, 2008

The Scary

Jarrah is going through a new scaredy-cat phase. She's not afraid of the usual stuff, like new people, or heights, or the dark (though she does request a night light these days.) Her fears are unpredictable, and--though I try to be understanding--totally bizarre.

A few nights ago, we went to Santee (Hi, Robyn!) for dinner at the Pinnacle Peak Steakhouse. (A small aside: I was really disappointed that it's a chain. A chain of three, but still. I liked my fantasy that we had our very own slice of Route 66 Americana just up the road.) The place is dark and woody and the walls are thick with chopped-off men's ties, each hanging beneath an index card with a name and a date. You take your leftovers home in a paper bag with the menu printed on it.

When we requested a table, there was no waiting, and the hostess smilingly gestured us to follow her. But not before Jarrah, hawk-eye that she is, spotted the entryway decor, which included an iron sculpture of a cowboy on horseback. On the wall above his head hung a weathered Western saddle. It's true, the arrangement doesn't make much sense. Why are these two items juxtaposed? The scale is all wrong. It's like the saddle is a synecdoche or something.

Still, far be it for me to be offended by interior decorating. I'm not going to take much notice unless someone is trying to hang it up in my house. Jarrah, however, skidded in her tracks, pointed, and asked in a quavering voice:

Jarrah: Whas that?

Sam: It's a...statue. Of a man on horseback. Let's go eat.

Jarrah: Statue can get me?

Sam: No, it can't get you. It doesn't move. That's why it's called a statue.

Jarrah: Why it scary?

Sam: It's not scary.

Jarrah: It is.

We whisked her from the room and once ensconced in our booth with a big basket of bread and some crayons, I figured she'd forget about it. And she seemed to, for a minute. Then she got that haunted look in her eyes again and moaned:

Jarrah: I don't want to go near the scary.

Sam: We're not near the scary. It's in another room. We're going to sit in here and eat some chicken. Won't that be nice?

Jarrah: The statue is very scary. Why it scary?

Sam: I think it's just your perception. Would you feel better if our waitress told you it wasn't scary?

Jarrah: Yeah.

Our waitress wore an expression like I was asking her to strip and dance in tasseled pasties as I attempted to explain our needs. But she made a game effort.

Waitress: No, it's not scary. It's just a statue. I work here every day, and it's never bothered me once.

Sam: Does that make you feel better, sweetheart?

Jarrah nodded, but her eyes were round and unblinking. Our food came, and as I was cutting her chicken, her eyes welled over with tears, and the moaning began again.

Sam: Honey, we're not anywhere near the statue. It can't move. We're in another room.

Jarrah: I not hungry. The scary might try to get me.

At this point, I could tell we were not going to have a light-hearted family evening of wholesome fare and happy conversation. Instead, Jarrah was going to moan and weep, and David and I would eat furtively between attempts to reassure her that a hideous Western-themed lobby sculpture was not going to tear her limb from limb at its next available opportunity. Such is the glorious spontaneity of life with a child.

By the time we were leaving, most of the restaurant knew our story, and a lot of people, including the manager, were trying to mollify Jarrah. The manager even suggested that they should think about painting blue eyes on the black hollow indentations where the rider's eyes should have been, to help humanize him. Frankly, I doubt it would help, but Jarrah looked like she was ready to wield a paintbrush right now. We were so discombobulated that we left my precious "Two Sisters and Ewe" diaper bag under our table (I guess we need to find a new name for it) and had to go back the next day.

Jarrah didn't want to go back, for any reason. She said the scary was going to get her. But she had to, and David went right up to the scary to show her it was actually friendly, or at the very least, disinterested. He asked Jarrah if she was still scared, and she said no.

David: Would you like to come a little closer?

Jarrah: I will--in five weeks.

10 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh, what a funny and familiar story this is! Poor little thing, with her big imagination. I'm glad she will be better in five weeks (LOL!).

For a while Sage was doing the same thing, and she still does occasionally. My favorite was a blackened sprinkler on the ceiling of the grocery store. Sage got scared of that and we talked about it all day--and though she's no longer afraid of it, we STILL tell stories about the first time she saw it ("the black sprinkler story") these many months later.

Good luck with this little phase. I hope there will be no more cowboy sculptures in your immediate future!

Miss J

Anonymous said...

Ah yes, the scaredy cat phase! Child development is fascinating. I think I've told you this before, but when Josh went through this he was afraid of COWS. He'd make us look all around his room at bedtime for cows. With a flashlight. As though we'd miss a cow in his room without a flashlight. Jared, so far, has found only loud noises such as airplanes passing overhead to be scary. I am sure he'll find something new any day now. Perhaps the ceiling fan.

On a side note, I didn't know that Pinnacle Peak was a chain. I enjoy going there - they have (or used to) an excellent shredded steak in ranchero sauce. Since I'll be going in more than 5 weeks maybe we can all go together!

This too shall pass but I feel your pain, sister! Miss you and hope to see you soon.

xoxox,

Robyn

Caroline said...

It must be inside of all of us because, even without looking at the picture, I knew exactly what she meant on some level.

When I was a kid, I remember refusing to eat in our kitchen for days on end because my mom's black iron chandelier reflected into my spoon, and it looked like I was getting a spider with every bite. I was terrified of that reflection and could not get over it. :)

Anonymous said...

I love how she has a very specific time frame for when the scariness will lessen! :) lix

The Wades said...

hee hee! Love this! I can totally imagine the scene. You sound much more patient and compassionate that I! (not hard to be, really.)

That Jarrah is a riot. Love her. I hope it's only the statue and not the whole cowboy thing.

Anonymous said...

Hi Sam!

Tee hee! :-D

Jarrah is so age-appropriate!!! Anton developed irrational fears right around the same time. Ours were toilets that flushed loudly, balloons (sigh!--he could spot a balloon with a 20-mile radius, and then, of course, we had to leave whatever we were doing), and a trampoline that was tied upside-down on the ceiling at the local Wal-Mart.

It gets better in about 6 months :-)

Love, Lisa
xxxooo

Samantha said...

@Jen: The black sprinkler! Wasn't there a ghost story about it? ;)

@Robyn: You hadn't told me about the cows. And now I've gone and snorted coffee through my nose. ;) Let's have a family night at Pinnacle Peak when next you're in town. It was delish!

@Caroline: I love it! I think you have a poem there.

@Lix: Yes, time has gotten really important lately, though almost everything is either "yesterday" or "tomorrow."

@Michelle: No, it's not cowboys. Jarrah's getting very excited for our visit to see you and is looking forward to painting some horses. :)

@Lisa: What a relief! And yes, we have the toilet thing now, too. (It developed suddenly!) Every time we enter a bathroom, I get a quiz: "It loud or soft? Goes by himself or when I press?"

Caroline said...

I'm 38. And I think it's only been a few years since I got thoroughly creeped out by loud, echoey public bathrooms. I used to all but shoot out of the stall after flushing. LOL What is that?! William hates it, too.

Laural Out Loud said...

You have to email me so I can respond to your comments!

I commented on this post last week, but it looks like it didn't show up. Gabi is going through a similar phase, and it's starting to drive me crazy.

Anonymous said...

EEEK!

I think I was at Pinnacle Peet's about 17 years ago. I don't remember such a frightening statue, It must be new!

oxox,

Mary

p.s. Blogger is acting strange with my account. So, I remain anonymous tonight!