With 3 boys under 5, there’s never a dull moment. Certainly never a quiet one… Buggy Blogger mum to J (4), B (2) and S (11 months) gets the kittens over parenthood.

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? Not S. Because he's not afraid of anything (except perhaps a face-cloth-wielding 2-year-old brother in the bath). Our fearless wonder delights in seeking out potential hazards - a germ-infested potty, a glass that could make an interesting hammer, a stray 1p piece which might just taste good. Not sure? Well let's just suck it and see!

And it's not just what he heads for but how he gets there. He throws himself into the chase, commando-crawling at a pace that'd make the Top Gear team proud. And if there are stairs in the way, he'll eagerly give them a go. Not that I'd say he's mastered them yet as we still have regular Jack 'n' Jill-style crash landings. He has, in short, no fear. And quite a few bruises too.

J by contrast is a 4-year-old bag of nerves. He's constantly worried by death ('mummy, are you and daddy going to die soon?'). He's scared stiff of the neighbourhood cats, gets all anxious about the school dinner hall and storybook baddies really give him the willies – he wouldn't look at the dragon in the Room on the Broom for months and he's petrified of the beanstalk Giant and the White Witch of Narnia. (Or is it just a deep-rooted jealousy over one who's blessed with a bit of height and another who's got the power to turn her foe – eg malignant moggies – into stone?).

B's not much braver. He finds billions of things " 'cary" - although he also asserts that most things, from trees to sky and carrots to broccoli, are all pink so perhaps " 'cary" might just be another favourite word? That said, he squeals with genuine terror when Numberjacks or Brum come on TV. He's afraid of the dark and of other peoples' mums. And he professes to be frightened of builders in their big boots and hard hats (it gets worse in the summer sonny when that's just about all they're wearing…).

Mind you, I can sympathise with these woes. I too find some of the playground mums a bit intimidating and builders aren't always as approachable as trusty old Bob. And I can also get quite freaked out by kids' TV. For instance, how did Pui get the job of kids' TV presenter with such a dodgy singing voice? Who is that scary white person waving briefly at us from under a tree in the Balamory rolling credits? And who doesn't find LazyTown’s Robbie Rotten in head-to-foot purple lycra and a host of off-the-wall disguises just a little disturbing?

And in fact, as well as empathising with some of their worries, I also now fret over a whole new array of mummy niggles. Since becoming a parent I get stomach lurches each time my little innocents encounter a scary new aspect of the big bad world around them: escalators, zebra crossings, getting off the bus, dentists, creepy crawlies, slightly deep water (even if it's fenced off)… Blimey, there are all sorts of things lurking out there that the boys actually take in their wee stride but which now give me the heebie-jeebies.

And there was me thinking that becoming a mum would turn me into a more rounded individual. Rounder maybe. But better balanced? Nah. I've actually just morphed into a great big jittery scaredy cat.

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• When kids are afraid of the dark
  
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