Yesterday, I decided to show him "Jack Jack Attack" on the second disk. I turned it on and left the room to finish up some dishes. I returned four minutes later as the short was finishing to find my sweet little movie-loving guy on the couch, shaking from head to toe, pointing at the TV, saying, "Baby?!...Baby?!!"
He was terrified!
And I felt terrible! I immediately picked him up and he glommed onto me like a wet shirt. I turned the little show back on and tried to talk him through it, saying things about how funny the little baby was for flying or disappearing, or bursting into a flaming monster. See, Gunner, isn't that hilarious?! Please, please think that it's hilarious! Mostly, though, I comforted him and told him over and over that the baby was okay.
Me: "The baby is okay."
G: "Baby K?!"
Me: "Yeah, the baby is just fine.
And then we got out our newly acquired library books and read about planes (Cop-ter!), trains (joo joo), and automobiles (Bus, Mommy!) to try to distract him.
I never thought that it would scare him, and I feel just terrible for putting him in into such a scary situation. But I'm glad I was there for him and realized quickly what was going on. And I'm grateful for the glomming cuddle time, since I have to take the cuddles when I can get them these days. I also guess I have learned to be a little more careful about what I expose him to. Although, really, who would have thought that it would have been scary?!
*Several days later, Gunner is still assuring us that the baby on the show is okay. Out of the blue, several times a day, he declares, "Dac Dac fine. Dac Dac fine." And we reply each time, "Yep, Jack Jack is just fine."