There’s a TV show that Dom used to love.  On the show, there is a character called Mr. Pockets, and Mr. Pockets is a clown. 

About six months ago, Dom became afraid of Mr. Pockets.  When Mr. Pockets came on the TV screen, Dom would start whining and backing away from it.  He would cover his eyes and scream for me to change the TV station.  Obviously, we don’t watch that TV show anymore.

Random pictures of clowns scare him, too.  Books with clowns in them can’t be checked out from the library, and the appearance of a clown-dressed man at the County Fair in August freaked him out, too.

I guess I didn’t do as well as I thought at hiding my own fear of clowns.  Perhaps my insistence at pediatrician visits that we not be put in the “clown room” somehow made an impression on Dom (I am a member of the “It” generation, after all).

The Chevy Chase Volunteer Fire Department had their open house last weekend.  Because my boy is a fire truck fan, we were there when it started.  There was a moon bounce slide for the kids, food for everyone who came to visit, and a demonstration of ladder climbing by some firefighters. 

And…there was a clown.  The very nice gentleman giving educational tidbits about home fire safety was in full clown face, and Dom didn’t appreciate his presence, to put it mildly.  In fact, Dom pulled Daddy away from the man while I listened to his very informative lecture. 

About halfway through our visit, Dom suddenly became dead quiet.  “Clown,” he said.  I immediately started craning my neck, planning possible escape routes away from the clown teacher guy.  Then Dom pointed to the corner of the firehouse.  There, standing in the midst of a gaggle of munchkins, was Ronald McDonald.  I watched in astonishment as Dom ran off to join the crowd of admirers.

I guess clowns are okay if they bribe him with nuggets.