One time we were visiting friends and were sitting, chatting in the kitchen as Butterfly played contentedly on the floor. Their grown son, who was also visiting, came into the kitchen with a ball. I put up my hand and said, "No.. no.. she'll be afraid of that. Please put it away."
But apparently he didn't believe me, or had some strange need to put it to the test, so he rolled the ball toward her. So there's a baby on the floor with huge eyes, looking for the nearest exit. Why do people do things like that? Did he really think I didn't know my baby? "Oh yeah.. look at that," he says, as if it's all about a new discovery for him, to hell with the kid. I picked her up, of course, and glared at him, the twit.
When I was toilet training Butterfly, it was going along fine, at first. But then one late afternoon she saw a full moon out the little window above the toilet. That changed things. She had run from the bathroom and I couldn't coax her back in. This wouldn't do. You can't toilet train a kid who won't go near the toilet. So first I put curtains on the offending window. I showed them to her, but she was unimpressed. She still wouldn't go into the bathroom, not for love nor money... nor even treats. So then I sat down on the side of the tub with her favourite book and started reading ~ loud enough for her to know that Mommy was in there reading, but too softly for her to hear it clearly from outside the room. The door was ajar, of course. She opened it more. She glanced at the window. The curtain was still in place. She ventured a little closer, I read just a little more softly. After a few minutes she was sitting at my feet enjoying the story, seeming to have forgotten all about the dreaded man in the moon. I had no more trouble getting her in there. I simply kept that curtain closed. Her toilet training resumed and before long the diapers were gone for good.