House of Horror

Halloween came early to our house this year.
This weekend Dave and I decided that Nathan needed a new toy. He loves balls. He loves lights. He loves music.
We saw the gumball machine and thought it was the obvious choice.
Maybe Nathan finds something threatening it its perky grin, its bubblegum music, or its festive lights.
Whatever the case, he's frankly terrified by it. The first time we set it up and triggered its ball-dropping, music-playing lever he burst into tears and hid his face in my chest. He's happy enough to peek at it in a quiescent state, but as soon as it is activated he scrambles the other way.
I initially found this vaguely entertaining, but it seems to be emblematic of a new stage in our little man's life. The Fraidy Cat stage.
Other evidence? He preferred to stare at our friend Dave from the safety of my arms at breakfast. Being held by someone else? Not so much. Two nights ago he chortled happily when the big green ball rolled in his direction. this afternoon, he cried.
I am so glad that Nathan feels safe in my lap, in my arms. I am actually relieved that as much time as I have spent away from the house in the last few weeks he still sees me as a source of safety and comfort. But I am stunned that my curious little explorer would prefer to be held and to watch. Two days ago he wanted nothing more than to hold my fingers so he could "walk" around the living room. Tonight he would not walk any further than my lap. With a lunge he threw his arms around my neck and settled happily in.
We are trying to desensitize him. I hold him safely and Dave plays with the toy. We are trying to show him that it is safe. And it drops balls, for goodness sake. In Nathan's world balls are tantamount to paradise. He should make friends with the ball giver.
So far, however, it seems we've turned Nathan's home into a house of horror.