FLASHBACK: April 8, 2013
6 months ago Billie was into Monsters.
Like, Monster everything. Monster Movies, Monster Books, Monster Socks, Monster Artwork on her wall. Being a monster was cool. Having a monster under your bed? Even cooler. This child would play “Princess and Monsters” and DEMAND that she was the monster. So, I hope you get the point when I say: she really fucking liked monsters.
Flash forward to now: she’s hovering in her bed, shaking with terror, crying hysterically for her daddy to come save her from, you guessed it, monsters.
Apparently the peaceful alliance she had once had with monsters is now over.
Maybe it’s a phase. Maybe she instigated it and told them they sucked or something. Or maybe it went to hell after they saw how much she liked that “How to Train Your Dragon” movie and the monsters were like, “WHAT. We’ve let this kid into our hearts and caves (monsters live in caves… right?) and now she’s gunna ditch us for those fire breathing sell-outs? Eff that noise. This bitch is toast.” And then they went all ape-shit and hid in her dresser drawers forcing her to go days without wearing underwear.
Oh, yea, she doesn’t want to wear her underwear anymore.
Because of the monsters.
Not that I can really blame her- especially since the kid wears two pairs of tights, a skirt, leggings, and knee high socks ALL AT ONCE. It takes everything in me to not be like, “Meh. You’re covered there anyway, kid. Have at it.” But then I have that vision of her falling ass over tea kettle on the playground, crotch to the world like some Bad Mom Bat Signal. So she wears underwear. And the monsters don’t eat her. Hell, those chickens don’t even show up. But that doesn’t seem to matter to Billie. Thus me standing over her dresser drawers every morning with a stuffed Lion and baseball bat. You know, for protection. From the… imaginary… monsters.
Christ. Either I’m a rockstar mom or I’m just as crazy as she is for enabling this behavior…
Either way- let’s hear it for Daddy who swooped in and held her until she fell asleep in his arms. I would’ve done it guys, really, but I had the audacity to suggest that the monsters were just manifestations of her inner fear of not having complete control in her life. As a direct result, I was banned from the monster recovery party.
Three year olds just don’t get psychology.