New Natural Mama

You know that cute video that went viral about the baby who stopped crying whenever Biggie came on the radio?  Well, this is the opposite of that.

Not that Hooly doesn’t like music.  She loves everything from Biggie to Raffi.  Loves to sing, loves to dance.

But every time she hears the song Bringing Home a Baby Bumblebee, she starts to cry.  And I don’t mean a little whimpery I don’t like this one whine.  I mean full-blown, giant tears, hold-me-this-second, crying.  Like she has been wronged.  Like she is flashing back to some hard-core bumblebee trauma.

But where, in her nineteen months, would such trauma have come from?  As far as I know, she has never actually witnessed anyone getting stung by a bee.  Unless it happened to one of the other students at her school, and I never heard about it, which is possible.

However, if that were the case and she was, in fact, scared of bees, it would only make sense that that fear would present itself in all bee-related situations.

Not so.

There is a bee on the insect page of her favorite animal book which we look at almost daily.  She points to the picture.  I say, that’s a bee.  No tears.  On to the next page.

And she even has a sweatshirt with a bee on the front which she wears without episode.  She actually asked to wear it this week.

So clearly, bees, in general, are not the issue.  So what, then?  What is it about this song that is so upsetting to her?

I mean, yes, the song is a little weird.  Definitely not one of my favorites.  But really, when it comes to children’s music, weird is the norm.

The only clue I can come up with is the line, Ouch! It stung me!  Maybe the first time I played the song for her and was singing along, I was too realistically animated in my delivery of this lyric.  Maybe she thinks the song hurt me, and logically, she must be next.

Funny though, it doesn’t seem to bother her at all when I scream ow! after she bites me, which happens anywhere from 1-47 times per day.  But I suppose, as the biter, she maintains a certain level of control.  Whereas when the song plays, you never know who might get stung.

This explanation, though possible, does not entirely satisfy me.  But for now, it’s all I’ve got.  I cannot have a two-sided discussion with her about it, and I cannot help her to tackle a fear I can’t identify.  All I can do is honor and respect her sensitivity.

And remember to skip track #2 when she wants to hear that CD.

And perhaps I should be getting used to this type of scenario.  There was a doll in her old classroom that upset her so much that the teachers had to put it in the closet and, even then, she would periodically point to the closet and make sad face.  And it was the most average-looking regular baby doll you can think of.

And my parents had a two-foot rubber alligator in their condo that terrified her to the point of hysterics.  More understandable yes, because it’s an alligator, but even when we put it out of sight she remained in pieces.  You couldn’t say the word alligator without her bursting into tears again.  And she asked about it for days afterward, the memory and the fear clearly still fresh.

She has since recovered from the alligator debacle, and can now look at pictures of alligators and talk about them.  So maybe she will get over her bumblebee song trauma too, and I haven’t scarred her for life by singing it.

In case you’re not familiar with the song, here’s one version (there are many).

What strange or unexplained fears does your child have?