For the past week or so the same exasperating routine has played out around 8 PM in my house. Both kids are in bed and a precious few minutes of silence have passed. My wife and I are collapsed on the couch, willing our bodies to continue functioning.
Then, my son creeps down the hallway. He’s crouching. Why does he crouch? Like maybe it’s less of a transgression if he’s crouching? He crouches into the living room and announces that the scary red light is back.
I don’t know what the scary red light IS, but it lives in his closet and it’s, well, it’s scary. I don’t know what the scary red light DOES, but it’s something awful I’m sure.
I’ve tried exorcising it and just straight up rationalizing to my son that a scary red light is a ridiculous thing to be afraid of. Perhaps if we had just watched The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and he was hearing chainsaws outside his window I would be more understanding.
So, he ends up falling asleep in my bed (my wife usually sleeps in it too) since the scary red light has yet to move in there. Then I move him back to his room once he’s asleep. It’s like a never-ending prescription — repeat forever and call if nothing changes.
Am I being taken advantage of? Probably. This is the same kid who gets asked a litany of “did you…?” questions before bed to remove every possible reason for getting out of bed. This is the same kid who yesterday split his head open while spinning on the bed. Jumping was expressly forbidden; spinning was not. I really need a good contract lawyer to help me close up the loopholes.
So maybe he’s just figured out that an irrational fear is the ace in the hole. If a scary saggy bathing suit moves in under the bed, I’ll know he’s screwing with me.
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