That Mannequin Moved!

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I tried to talk my daughter out of her fear, thinking that reason would do the trick. But let’s be honest—when you’re a kid, logic doesn’t hold a candle to the power of imagination. So, I switched gears and tapped into my own childhood experiences to find a better approach.

When I was her age, I had this irrational fear of bears. Seriously, I thought one of those massive creatures would wander into my home in suburban Maplewood, and I’d wake up to find a bear head looming over my top bunk, ready to devour me. The fact that bears had never been spotted in Maplewood didn’t matter. They were out there, lurking, just like those mannequins that seemed to come alive in my imagination. And trying to reason through how a bear could possibly open a door without thumbs didn’t ease my panic one bit.

As I grew older, I developed a fear of a pendulum clock in our kitchen. It was nothing fancy—just a small wall clock—but at night, I was convinced its ticking was getting closer and closer. I never paused to think about how a harmless clock could harm me. Maybe it was a deep-seated realization that time itself was the ultimate predator.

My daughter’s fears echo my own childhood anxieties. That mannequin? It’s moving. The clock? It’s creeping nearer. And bears? They might have a key to our house. These fears feel very real to her, just as mine did to me.

As an adult, I still have my own set of worries. What if the bank messes up some paperwork and we lose our house? What if a big corporation pulls the rug out from under me? Or the thought that I won’t have enough saved for my three girls’ weddings and college? Well, maybe that last one is more of a reality than a fear.

I have a buddy who’s genuinely concerned about space debris crashing down from the sky. No joke. He also worries about the West Nile Virus so much that he slathers himself in bug spray, even though he hardly ventures outdoors. I tease him, but his fears are just as valid to him as mine are to me. And let’s not forget my mother-in-law, who is convinced that every glass elevator is one malfunction away from a plummet.

Maybe some fears never really disappear. They just fade into the background, only to be replaced by new ones. I no longer worry about bears invading my home—unless they happen to be loan officers in suits. And thankfully, digital clocks have taken care of my pendulum panic.

Perhaps having fears keeps us alert to potential dangers, a throwback to our ancestors’ fight-or-flight instincts. So instead of trying to reason with my daughter, I decided to embrace her fear. With the help of her older sister, we dressed up the mannequin in a silly outfit that made my youngest burst into laughter when she saw it. Scarves, a princess dress, a feather boa, and some wacky glasses transformed the scary figure into something fun. Who knew those dress-up boxes would come to the rescue?

For several nights after that, my daughter would look for the mannequin and smile. Mission accomplished! Until last night, when I heard her calling from down the hall: “Mom! Dad! I hear weird noises coming from my closet.”

Don’t worry, sweetie, it’s probably just a bear!

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In summary, childhood fears can seem overwhelming, but they often mirror our adult anxieties. By addressing fears with creativity and understanding—rather than logic—we can help kids navigate their worries while also reflecting on our own.