Tag Archives: nightmares

Sharks vs. Ghosts

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Piper has been having nightmares. Kenny the Shark is to blame. Piper thinks he’s absolutely terrifying.

We don’t let her watch such violence at home, of course. She saw it during indoor recess. Discovery Channel needs and R rating, according to Piper’s imagination.

While I was trying to rationalize her irrational fear, she asked, “Mom, are sharks and ghosts real?”

“Well,” I answered, “sharks are real. Ghosts aren’t.”

“Ugh,” Piper said, “I was hoping you’d say ghosts are real. They’re so much less scary than sharks.”

Dam the Monster Update

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The other night I wrote a barely coherent post at 3 a.m. regarding the invasion of monsters in our home and sleepless nights. You can read it here. I was up anyway. Might as well write.

My fabulous cousin, Margee, wrote me immediately with a remedy.  I think she felt sorry for my blubbering helplessness. I’m grateful. Margee recommended that we whip up a batch of Monster Spray which rids the house of said pests. This sounded like a perfect challenge for the Sissy. I can surely mix lavender (which monsters hate, don’t you know) with water, but Sissy said it needed to look authentic. She grabbed one of her American Girl spray bottles (by the way I didn’t know that AG girls even needed spray bottles for their hair but apparently this is another department in which I fail) and made a label. I taped it on. That was my artsy contribution. There.

Piper loved it. You’d think it was Christmas around here. She was so excited to have the Monster Spray. She sprayed the beds. All of them. In case she went wandering bed to bed in the wee hours, for which she’s famous. Then she sprayed the windows and doors. These are clear entry points for monsters. Then she sprayed her pajamas. The house smelled like a spa. We were all ready for sleep.

As I was tucking her in, Piper asked, “Is the monster spray real?”

I sort of avoided the question. “Monsters aren’t real, Piper. Remember?”

“Yeah, but I like the spray. It smells good. Let’s pretend they’re real so we can spray them.”

Then Piper slept twelve straight hours.

Margee is a genius.

Dam the Monsters

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It’s 3 a.m. and I’ve just spent the last ten minutes constructing a “monster dam” in Piper’s bed. What’s a “monster dam” you ask? It’s when you pile up all your pillows and the 200 stuffed animals from your bed into a barrier, like a beaver dam, that blocks your bottom bunk from the entry point of monsters. Monsters can’t climb over a pillow mound, apparently.

Isn’t this the same little girl who Wanted: One Monster Under the Bed?

“Every time I fall asleep my imagination sends scary stuff,” Piper whimpers.

I hold her close, willing away the monsters. “Let’s try to think happy thoughts instead,” I suggest. “What makes you happy?”

“The beach, ice cream, Sissy, when there aren’t monsters in my head.”

Then I do what moms have been doing since the advent of the first monster dream, I bring her to bed with me. It’s a desperate move. I’m sure it’s one I’ll regret in the morning. Right now all I want is sleep. I’ll take a snoring little girl with a foot in my face to get it.

“Mommy, if I close my eyes are you sure I won’t see monsters?” I’m not. But I have to say I am or there won’t be anymore sleep and we’ll both be nightmares tomorrow.