Alligators

From as young as I can remember until sometime after I was married, I had this recurring nightmare about alligators. I would be running through a jungle (I didn't always live in Utah, I lived in the Phillipines for awhile, so I know what a jungle looks like) sometimes being chased by carnivorous natives (the kind from Bugs Bunny that would have put me in a great big pot) sometimes not, but always being driven toward a gully that was full of alligators. I knew I could escape the natives, they were after all, animated, but the alligators always freaked me out. Even as a child, I was fortunate enough to be able to control certain aspects of my dreams. I almost always knew when I was dreaming (the alligators were a dead giveaway), I could create a cliff, and if I could get to the cliff, I could jump off and fly (I loved when I could fly!). And if that didn't work, I could wake myself up. The alligators never got me.

I never did like alligators. Even now, when I go to the zoo, I avoid the alligator enclosure. I'll send my kids through with David, and I will wait for them outside. Every one is allowed to have strange and bizarrae, non-harmful behaviors. Right?

A few years back, my family had all gathered for our weekly dinner at Mom's house and we started swapping stories. "Remember the time we did...?" "Remember this?" was the basis of our conversation that might. A story was told about when we went to Okeyfenokee Swamp. I wasn't very old, maybe four(?) years old, just about the same age Ella is now. My Dad wanted to take a picture of me by the water. He had a great camera and was always taking pictures of things. He sent me over by the water, warning me to watch out for alligators. I, being the dutiful daughter that I am, did exactly what he asked me to. Suddenly he yelled at me, "An alligator's coming! Run!" I freaked out and ran... It was a joke.

Do you see the connection? I didn't see it until I was more that 30 years old. More than 20 years of nightmares, and a refusal to ever see an alligator (except the white one, he was cool). I wonder what sort of nightmares I'm giving my kids.

The moral of this story is: We don't mean to damage our children, or in other words, never smile at a crocodile.