My parents were out to visit us recently. We don't get to see them enough so it was a lot of fun. My mom helped Boo make one of those ridiculously difficult wooden puzzles and my dad helped me with a few projects around the house. The Boy did most of his bonding while watching movies. But Baby had a completely different experience: she met my parents' dog, China.
China is a really good dog. Very sweet and gentle, only asking that we never cease in petting her or telling her what a good dog she is. But the thing about China is that she is a Rottweiler. And thanks to any movie that features someone sneaking into a junk yard or other locale that requires late night protection but can't afford a security guard, Rottweilers have gotten a bad rap. It's not her fault that she can take down a running punk with her powerful build, or that her razor-sharp teeth are perfect for hauling delinquents off of chain-link fences.
Now, Baby didn't know all these stereotypes (because her precious little brain is only to be fried by Baby Einstein or VeggieTales). What she did know was that suddenly, there was a very large animal in the room...an animal that would, on occasion, look at Baby. Of course, Baby's reaction was to immediately do this:
Climb up Grampa (at an amazing speed, no less) and wrap herself securely around his head.
While Grampa didn't mind protecting little Baby from Big Bad Doggie, the child had to get used to seeing China every day. Screaming fits of panic and terror are only acceptable coming from me. We worked with Baby. Boo and Boy happily pet China, played with her, and even laid on her (while Baby watched from atop the tallest person in the room). Eventually, Baby stopped the screaming, then the tears, then the scaling of people.
Finally, on the second to last day of my parents' month-long visit, a miracle occurred: Baby willingly touched China. China, sensing a change in the area around her lower back, turned her head to take a look...and Baby went screaming for the nearest head.
Oh, well. Maybe next trip.