Irrational

I am afraid of sharks.  Terrified, actually.  In fact, I have never been in the sea higher than my ankles and I have been known to hold onto Kevin so tightly that he has bruises when even a toe of mine goes in.

Yes, I do of course know that the shores around Britain are hardly likely to see its first Great White attack the day that I go swimming, but rationality plays no part in phobias.  I lived in Iowa and was convinced that we had sharks living in our pond AND in the Mississippi AND in my bathtub.  As late as my 20s, I had to get out of a swimming pool, shaking, because I was convinced I saw a shark in the water (it was an underwater mirror and the beast I saw was most likely one of my hairy legs).

So can you imagine my joy when Kevin and Ellis returned from town the other day with 2 ENORMOUS plastic sharks and a variety of fish?  Or, when every day since Ellis has INSISTED on carrying said sharks around with him EVERYWHERE.  I have now jumped on 2 or 3 occasions when I have reached into my bag to pull out a great white. Lost my appetite when I am met at the breakfast table with yet another shark attack. And have made Kevin do bath time when sharks are swimming in the bath water.

Something had to be done.  Knowing that I am more terrified of breaking the heart of a two year old than I am of a plastic shark, I found a compromise we could both live with. Salvation was found in a small piece of embroidery and a drawstring bag. 

I can see the headline now, "Great White attack fought off by embroidery needle and linen"...Hey, I did say I was irrational.