Monstrous Owls

Yesterday, Mcclellan let out a terrified shriek and "Mama! Mama! Mama!" that I know only means he's really, really scared of something.

(usually, its the dark, and I just remind him to turn on the light)

I ran into his room and he was crying because he "heard owls." "What!?" I half-laughed. "I heard them hooting!" I continued to explain that even if there were owls outside...

(which there aren't, we live in a town, and they live in the woods, son)

...owls aren't scary. Nevermind, that it was 4pm, and they were probably all sleeping anyway.

(I didn't want him to bring up a slightly more rational fear of owls just because the lights would go out later- irrational fears are no fun at 2am)

And that was that. Except that every time he headed into his room or into the darkish hallway, he brought up the owls. Not really in a terrified way, but in a way that they just kept nagging at him.

(If you know already that Mcclellan is having eye surgery next week, you might see where I'm going with this)

With no midnight wakings last night, I figured we were good. Except then he started talking about his ceiling fan making a motorcycle noise. Or that he heard geese flying outside. And when I sat down on my squeaky bed in the room across the hall, he swore he heard an old pickup truck in the house.

I finally confronted him while we were making ridiculously delicious cranberry-chocolate-peanut butter-oatmeal cookies this morning and he complained about owls again.

"Is something bothering you, Mcclellan?"
(blank stare)
"Why, all of a sudden, are you bringing up that you hear strange noises whenever you go into your room? Are you thinking about something that is scary?"
"My eye surgery," he confessed and rather blurted out.
"Ohhhh. (as if I didn't know) Well, are you scared of your eye surgery next week?"
"Yeah."
"It's okay to be scared of your eye surgery...
(and I proceeded to tell him why he didn't need to be scared of eye surgery, but what is logic in the face of an irrational fear?)
...but if you think about it and you start to feel scared about it, come and tell me that you are scared of your eye surgery. Not owls, or geese, or other noises you think you hear."
"I'm scared of my eye surgery."
"Okay."

And that was that. He came and told me he was scared again once, and I held his hand (tightly) when he requested accompaniment as he walked down the hallway to get his stool from the bathroom to help wash dishes. Other than that, so far, we're good with honesty.

To think that the surgery coordinator (who has a degree in what? Child psychology? Surgery coordination?) told me to just avoid and sugar coat. Hmmm.