A little imagery and my mental creation has come to life. A three year old with a bad case of the wiggles and an urge to be anywhere but his cot ignores my ineffective promptings to go to sleep.
“The monster will get you,” I whisper.
“What monster?” Two little eyes grow wide.
“The cot monster of course. He’s long and skinny like a snake. And he crawls low to the ground. He has 195 feet and 42 sharp little teeth. And he’s brown and has green spots the color of bugers.”
“Where is he?”
I point to the corner by the door.
“He’s watching the children,” I say solemnly. “He watches them and then he bites the feet of children who get off their cots.”
“I can’t see him.”
“He’s invisible. Only teachers can see him.”
“Will he bite you?”
“No just children.”
He scurried back onto his cot. “Hide me,” he whispered.
“Don’t worry,” I said, tucking his blanket snuggly around him. “I’ll protect you.”