Dresser Monsters and Other Bumps in the Night

I had a hard time getting the kids to sleep last night. Both of them repeatedly got out of bed with the same complaint: "I'm scared!"

LJ heard a mysterious thump somewhere in his room, and decided he could not possibly get back in bed until our dog came to sleep on his floor. Thankfully, at age 10, Viking is happy to oblige any time there is snoozing involved.

Julianna wanted to get a blanket out of her dresser, and when I asked her why she couldn't get it herself, she said, "You know I have a fear of that."

"That" apparently is a fear of opening her dresser in the dark ... just in case a bureau monster is lurking within.

To ease LJ and Julianna to sleep at night, Jack and I acquiesce to a series of bedtime rituals for each child.

The checklist includes things like night lights, hugs, kisses, special stuffed animals, noise machines, and closing drawers and doors.

LJ's list is a little more intricate and often involves multiples of 8 -- his "lucky" number. (It really is quite an impressive mathematical system he's developed).

If their demands are not met precisely, LJ and Julianna hold us for mental ransom by whining until, in a fit of exhaustion, we cave like an avalanche.

I feel confident that at least one, if not both of my children, will have a successful career in the field of hostage negotiations.

And although I know in my head that the whole routine is ridiculous and could probably be stopped by putting down my big, bad Mommy foot ... my heart has a soft spot.

I remember what those fears felt like. I was terrified of the dark and slept with both a night light and my closet light on. I too needed a stuffed animal, and "bumps in the night" made my heart skip a beat.

There is something sweet about Julianna believing that Mommy is a like a superhero who is powerful enough to keep the monsters away with just a quick peek under the bed.

And there is something touching about LJ thinking that a half-blind, arthritic yellow Lab is mean enough to protect him with his tail-wagging toughness and wretched doggy breath.

To adults, these fears (and salves) may seem irrational. But to children, they are as real as the Tooth Fairy and Leprechauns.

It won't be long before LJ and Julianna outgrow their nighttime fears, and I'm sure I'll be glad the drama is behind us. But in the meantime, I'll suck it up and make a few extra trips up and down the stairs when they need reassurance.

I know that the teenage years are just around the corner, and when we reach that point, the tables will turn. They won't need me to save them anymore from their imagined monsters, noises, or ghosts.

Instead I'll have to summon my superhero powers to fight off sex, drugs, and rock and roll.