"Christopher is a very confused child," a dad told me recently.
"He's terrified of Chuck E Cheese, but he's not afraid of playing in the road."
The story reminds me of my childhood. My parents taught me well the dangers of riding with strangers, unlocked doors and playing after dark. None of these things concerned me, though.
What I really feared was Ricky.
Ricky was the neighborhood bully. Hardly a day passed when Ricky didn't threaten to throw a rock, trip a girl or knock us off our bikes. The only thing scarier than meeting Ricky on a walk home was playing dodgeball in the gym.
Call me a coward (my family will probably agree), but in those days, girls had to wear skirts to school. And nothing stings bare legs more than the slap of a rubber ball fired from the hands of boys like Ricky.
My parents knew little about such giant fears as these. They were busy warding off the villains of their day. Things like nuclear fallout. If they did suspect, they probably would have laughed.
Just like we laugh and shake our heads at 3-year-old Christopher's mixed-up fears. We know that Chuck E, though abnormally large and furry, is very unlikely to harm him; but the cars that speed past his house can kill him for sure.
But are we adults any less confused than Christopher is?
We face some scary oversized rodents of our own these days, like violent killers who stalk our children at school. It seems entirely appropriate to us to protect them from the kinds of horrific violence we have witnessed, and we spare no cost in doing so.
From pricey safety consultants to surveillance cameras in the halls, we fight our fears, however unlikely they are to materialize. We do our best to make sure the villains of Littleton and Paducah remain far away from our kids and our schools.
Meanwhile, we ignore the bullies who roam their halls. In our zeal to protect kids from outsiders, schools adopt rigid visitor policies that shut them off from the larger community of caring adults -- sometimes even from their own parents.
And like toddlers in traffic, we parents pursue our own agendas, not always thinking about their impact on our kids. We fill their days with planned competition and call it play. We pump images of violence and despair into our homes and call it entertainment. And here's a big one during holidays -- we over-schedule our lives, leaving no opportunity to listen to our kids.
These are the real dangers our families face. But there are ways to attack them, too. There's help available for your child when she needs to face up to the bullies in her life. And if, by chance, your child is the bully, you can find help that will teach her to resolve conflicts more constructively. As parents, we need to make time to reconnect with our kids. And when we let go of our kids -- and our fears -- it can have some painful, but life-giving, consequences.
So keep a wary eye on the monsters lurking about. If you're a parent, that's your job. Just remember Christopher, and don't ignore the dangers a little closer to home.
Linda Wacyk is Director of Communications at the Michigan Association of School Administrators and a former EduGuide editor.