Bug-phobia
It’s six AM. I’m jarred from my sleep by the terrified screams of my three year old son Ben. “What’s going on?” I wonder. I gracefully spring from my bed. I can see the hall light creeping under the bedroom door, and I take a guess as to what is happening. “He woke up, and looked for us, and then he panicked when he didn’t find us”, I think to myself. I quicken my pace toward the source of the dreadful cries, intent on comforting my poor naïve child. He must be terrified. My poor child thinks he’s been left alone, and he’s terrified.
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