Monsters What Walk The Earth

As my lovely wife has mentioned, poor little Gert has been having monster problems. It seems that, once the sun goes down, the world turns into a kaleidoscope of terror for the kid. She’s terrified of everything. Positive that the world will come crashing down and destroy all that makes her happy.

In that sense, she’s exactly like her father.

Not too long ago I was tucking her in and assuring her that there were no monsters in her closet, under her bed, in the bathroom. She had been fighting a cold and let loose a torrent of coughing that would make a consumptive ballerina blush. “Am I going to die,” she exclaimed.

Um. So we started an existential conversation about the circle of life and how the universe has set in motion a series of events that are immutable and unavoidable. In essence, I assured her that she was not going anywhere. “Besides,” I said, “if you went anywhere I would miss you.”

“I would miss you too,” she said pensively. “Can we stop talking about this? It’s making my eyes wet.”

Cue sound effect of my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.

So, to battle her monsters, I got her the one artifact from my childhood that I have managed to cling to. My “Mickey”. It’s a white blanket with silky sides that I used to carry Linus-style everywhere I went. I only gave it up begrudgingly when I started Kindergarten.

“Take good care of it,” I said. “It’s been through a lot.”

I showed her the blankets scars. The places where the silky part had been ripped and torn off, the worn fibers where I stroked the blanked for comfort, the giant tear from getting it caught under the wheel of a Radio Flyer. “My mommy sewed it up for me so that I wouldn’t be sad,” I said. “And let me show you a secret. When it gets cold, you can rub your fingers on the silky part. It feels really nice.”

Thus began the reign of the Mickey. She sleeps with it every night and, somehow, it keeps the monsters at bay. That is, until last night when we discovered it was left at Grandma’s house after a sleep over. Gert approached me with sadness, guilt and panic in her eyes.

“Daddy,” she said, “I left my Mickey at Meme’s house. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay honey, Meme will take good care of it.”

“Can we call her?”

So we called Meme to ensure that the blanket was okay. Gert took the phone.

“Hi Meme. I can’t sleep with out my Mickey. When you find him will you put him in a special place? Oh, and if he gets dirty will you wash him? I promised my daddy I’d take good care of him. Thank you Meme.”

We tucked her in bed. She had her stuffed animals, her “Mommy” blanket that her mommy made for her and a baby blanket that is yellow and soft. We call it “Ducky”. She was nervous, but good.

After everyone had calmed down and settled into bed, I went to the kitchen and was checking my email.

“Daddy,” a tiny voice said behind me, “will you hug this please?” She handed me Ducky and I gave it a big hug. She went off to bed with a little pep in her step.

“Ah,” she said from the darkness of her room, “all filled with Daddy love.”

And she went right to sleep.