We are THOSE parents.
The ones who tell their kids that the monsters will come nibble their toes while they are sleeping, just for fun.
I think the kids are on to us now, because we are having to up our game.
Recently, I had the kids outside playing and Marty was in the house getting ready for softball. All the windows were open, and the kids were on the side of the house by our bedroom and bathroom. When they got close to our window, Marty growled from inside.
Emma, who knows us by now, told the boys, "Watch out, boys, there's a monster inside!" And the boys stopped what they were doing and stared at the window. The growling then came from the bathroom window. So they ran over there.
The kids ran for a while, back and forth, one window to the next, following the sound of the monster as it moved throughout the house. Finally, Emma got tired of the game and announced, "It's not a monster, it's just Daddy."
The monster replied, "No, I'm a monster!"
For some reason, that didn't convince her.
Emma, sure of her beliefs that there are really no such things as monsters, declared, "If you are a real monster, show your face!"
So the monster did. And the kids screamed and ran away.
I did not get a picture of the monster in the bathroom window, but over the course of the evening, the monster flew around the house. He was a wily little monster, but I was able to capture a shot of him on the window frame in the living room.
The kids would be going about their evening business, and all of a sudden, stop and point at the monster as he had suddenly appeared in a new place. At bedtime, all the kids were a little apprehensive, so I caught the monster and put him in a tupperware bin.
That night during my nightly rounds at midnight, petting sleeping faces and making sure everyone was properly covered, Emma woke and jumped. "Oh my, Mommy, I think the monster is going to fly in here and nibble my toes and I don't want that."
So I spilled the beans. I took the monster out of his cage and showed him to her up close. I can still see in my mind the adorable look on her face when she realized, "hey, that's not a monster, that's just a face drawn on a roll of toilet paper!" She was a little disappointed that he wasn't real, and asked if we could keep him anyways. I told her that the magic was not in the fact that he was real, it was in the fact that we get to pretend. And pretending is more fun than running anyways.
The next day, Monsty the Monster had a new role. He became a playmate, and was carried around everywhere.
He had some pizza.
He joined the kids on the swings.
He even got to help Emma swing, but she was so concerned that he might fall over, that she didn't go very high.
And that night, he snuggled up close for a nice slumber.
Now, Monsty the Monster is a little shredded. His face is mostly gone, and people are looking at us funny when they come over and we have two rolls of shredded toilet paper in the living room. Or in Emma's bedroom. We have gotten ourselves into a pickle, what do we do now? It's not like just putting Monsty on the spindle thingy in the bathroom is a good idea, our kids are going to need enough therapy that we won't be able to afford the "My mom made me wipe my bum with my best friend and then flush him" sessions. And he's not going to keep well. He got a little wet and he's not looking good.
But now we have pictures. Pictures that we can pull out when she's seventeen and had a 'tude, and we can say(in front of her friends,) "Hey, sweetie, remember when you were best friends with a roll of toilet paper?"
Oh, yeah. We are THOSE parents.