Recently, our home was fragranced all weekend with the aromas of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, banana and pumpkin. Sissy and I had been baking up a storm. Reading Laura Ingalls Wilder does at least one thing to me: prompts a voracious desire to bake everything from scratch.
One day, while we were preparing to bake, I was searching for a particular pan. I could not see into the back of this odd shaped cabinet, so I had to use a flashlight to find it. Sissy wanted to play with the flashlight. I said sure. She started playing, shining the light on the walls, saying she saw flowers, stars and other good and fun things. In the meantime I was gathering recipes and ingredients. She continued to play. As I started to measure the flour (which for me, takes great concentration), Sissy says “Ooooh! Big Eye!” I look over my shoulder and she is shining the light on the kitchen floor and it does look like an eye. I say “neat!” She is happy. I finish measuring the flour (without forgetting the number of cups I was on and having to start over), and begin measuring the sugar. I hear a blood curdling scream. I quickly (and frantically) turned around to see what was happening.
She was fretfully looking down at the floor, the flashlight hanging at her side, as she hysterically cried and stepped back and forth. I could not figure out what was going on. She kept looking down, yelling and crying anxiously, apparently trying to get away from something (she is deathly afraid of bugs). I couldn’t find it. She just kept yelling “Mama!” Mama!” and danced around. I felt helpless! I just kept looking and looking and looking, and then I saw it: she was trying to get away from the light, but every time she moved, it moved with her and she absolutely freaked out when the light touched her skin.
Now you see why I would never intentionally scare her!