I have a small fear of spiders, and select other creepy-crawlies. (Only the really ugly ones.) It's something I've lived with all my life. It's not a big deal - I can even bring myself to kill a spider if I have to, although if there is any other adult in the vicinity it is absolutely their job!
Apparently my grandmother became aware of this fear of mine several years back, and decided to take it upon herself to help me conquer it. (This is my Dad's mother - not the grandmother I posted about last week.)
Let me pause here to tell you that my grandmother is a little different. I hesitate to elaborate on this, because I don't want to sound as if I don't love and respect her, because I certainly do, but suffice it to say that she is a little weird.
Her form of therapy for me was a little wooden cricket, painted with bright colors. ( The shape itself was very much like a real cricket, as was the size. The bright greens and yellows with touches of red, however, left little doubt that it was a toy.
Bubblehead and I had to laugh about this as soon as we had a moment alone, because first of all, I wasn't afraid of crickets. And secondly, this thing looked nothing like a real cricket, so even if I was, this wasn't going to help. (But it was nice of her to care, and for that I love her!)
Her efforts weren't completely wasted. I'm still not afraid of crickets.
