Mong'sters

For the past two weeks or so we've had an extra bed partner. In addition to the four-legged one that is (she's a given).














It's G. He has been ghosting his way into our bedroom after we read him stories and "tuck him in" each night.













His new favorite story is a flip book of Noah and his Ark. This is ironic because yours truly doesn't even really know the whole ark story other than Noah had two of each animal. Lucky for me those are the important details for G and we can spend nothing short of 45 minutes flipping the flaps and talking about aardvarks, chisels and blocks of salt. G doesn't care where they're going or why they are packing weeks worth of edibles and tools. All he cares about is that the story never ends. In fact, to avoid the ending part altogether he always stops me at the second to the last page and says, "No. Not that one," and proceeds to conjure up half a million questions about his eye color or why that freckle on my arm is there. Finally, after I call him out for stalling, inform him I'm going to put the covers on and kiss him goodnight, the truth shoots out of him like a bad piece of gum.

"I don't want to sleep in my room."

But this is where you sleep, Honey.

"No. I can not sleep in this room. There are mong'sters in here."

Here we go. Every three weeks or so it's about the Mong'sters.


We've tried it all:

The Rationalizing Approach- "Monsters aren't real. They are only in story books and on television." But I can't help but feel it's like telling your mom that you'll be back before curfew when you were 18. They want to believe you. Part of them does believe you but then when it's dark and quiet they just sit in a room with a light on unable to go to sleep until you show up wreaking of smoke and hairspray. Same thing applies except it's a little boy sitting up in a dark and quiet house with his light on until something "shows up" that is every bit as ominous and doom worthy as an 18 year old club goer.

The Eradication Approach- We've taken spray bottles of all sorts and aromas to spray away these fictitious creatures to no avail. All we're left with is carpet that smells like Febreze and furniture doused in lemon water. While our house smells lovely, our little boy is still afraid.

The Tough Love Approach- Putting G right back into bed every time he shuffles into our room like a Halloween costume.























He comes back every single time. I counted six times one night before we all expired in our bed out of exhaustion. The thingis, it may take G ten minutes per voyage down the hallway as he is stealthily silent in addition to being completely veiled in his sheet du jour. Last night it was a flannel sheet of sled dogs and pine trees. Very pitiful in a universally pitiful kind of way.

The Self-Defense Approach- Because I can appreciate how it feels to go to sleep with one eye open (I am my mother's daughter) and just how much that sucks, I dress G in superhero pjs






and supply him with many defense tools. Okay, plastic weapons of death and destruction like samuri swords and pirate knives but that didn't have the desired result either. They all suffered under the nervous hands of G who cracked, splintered or simply broke in half these devices that were hidden under his pillow to protect him.

So we all slept together in our bed last night just so we could all get some sleep. It's wrong, we know this. It's uncomfortable (well, not so much for me because I love G's little warm noggin snuggled up to mine) and it's got to end soon. So if you have any advice or words of wisdom, please impart. We're tired. We're confused. Most of all, we have mong'sters and a little man who would rather sleep in a heap of sheets next to our bed than to be alone and vulnerable in his.

P.S. In case "nightlight" is on your mind you must know that G has a lamp that is on ALL NIGHT LONG and fills his room with enough light to host a birthday party complete with moon bounce. It's bright in there.