I realized something the other day. Something I already knew, but I suppose didn’t occur to me as being significant. I, yes I, was a bedtime monster.
Now, I don’t remember being a problem at bedtime when I was a kid. I think I went to bed when my mom asked. Heh heh. I'm sure I hardly ever turned into a monster. But, I'm sorry to say that I was quite monstrous after I was tucked in. No, I didn’t get out of bed and play or sneak out the window or anything like that. I stayed in bed.
My poor mom.
You see, I laid in bed and called her. Quietly at first—-mom. The kitchen where she was washing the dishes was far down the hall, so I had to call a bit louder—-Mom. I could hear her at the table, talking. I’d yell—-MOM! And I wouldn’t just call her once or twice, no. I’d call her over and over and over again. MOM. MOO-OM. MOOOOOOOMMM!
Heck, I didn’t have anything else to do. I was in bed, not tired, and following the rule of staying tucked in. I’m sure I never called her for anything important. Sometimes she would come and see what I needed. But, she was no fool.
So, when my kiddos called me from bed one night, what did I do? I made sure they understood that calling mom from bed was not okay, of course. And they don’t, unless it’s an emergency, of which there aren’t many when one is tucked in. Most nights are peaceful around here.
But, everyone gets a little monstrous sometimes. Apparantly even me. And I think that's part of why I wrote Bedtime Monster. I just didn't know it.