Up until a few weeks ago, Oliver was completely fearless. Big dogs, strangers, climbing up high - nothing was scary to him. It was terrifying for me because, without any fear, he could and would attempt to do anything.
Lately, however, I've been noticing a little hesitance in his actions. He will not walk into the elevator anymore without holding my hand, because he's afraid of falling down the big crack. We took him out to eat at a Japanese Hibachi place, and for the first time since he's been born, he was scared of the big fire show. In a department store, he cried because there was a woman near by yelling at her children.
Last night, he was scared by a Sesame Street skit that showed Mr. Hooper in danger. He sometimes wakes up at night screaming, which makes me wonder if he isn't having bad dreams.
And while I feel bad that he's afraid, I'm actually very glad inside. The bigger he gets, the crazier the ideas he gets in his head. I want him to know to be afraid of, say, jumping off the table head first. I want him to fear fire and the stove so he doesn't burn his arm off.
Still, as scared as he was for Mr. Hooper's life, he doesn't seem that concerned about his own. Today he leaped face first off my bed. He got a carpet burn on his forehead.
Yesterday, for the first time ever, I left him in a daycare center with a stranger and he didn't even look back. When I picked him up after an hour of being gone, he was still having a great time.
This morning he hit himself in the face with a plastic hammer. When I said "ouch!" he just hit himself again and again. He thinks pain is funny.
So, all things considered, he's still a tough little guy. Next time you see him, don't mention that scary incident concerning the grease fire on Sesame Street.
Because he could totally take you.