Ice cream courage

It was bound to happen. Now that our basement is useable, AJ's afraid to go down there by himself.

Logic and lighting make no difference. He doesn't want to descend the two half-flights of stairs without someone by his side (or, even better, a few steps ahead of him.)

Earlier in the week, AJ wanted to play baseball outside. But, horrors, the bat was downstairs. Daddy (who really didn't want to play baseball) told AJ he had to go and get the bat. After much whining on AJ's part, they did not play baseball that night.

We found a more powerful incentive a few nights later: root beer floats. The ice cream is in the freezer downstairs. I told AJ he needed to go down and get it. In his enthusiasm for the bedtime treat, AJ made it halfway down before remembering the scary possibilities of where he was about to go. Back upstairs he rushed. He then did his best to convince Maggie to go with him. That didn't work, even with us urging her to join him.

By this point, I, too, was halfway to the basement, standing on the landing trying to coax Maggie to go with AJ down those last few steps. It was the principle of it. He was so close to making it to the bottom, and Maggie should follow his call like she does for us.

At last it worked. Their feet touched concrete. AJ opened the door under the stairs that leads to the freezer. And that's when this great moment of victory fizzled. AJ wasn't strong enough to open the well-sealed freezer door.

Yes, I went down and helped him then. He was trying so hard (physically and mentally), and deserved a reward for his efforts. The rootbeer float served that purpose quite nicely.