Everything associated with bedtime continues to be a nightmare. Even the mere declaration that bedtime has arrived brings on the possibility that my sweet little angel-girl will turn into the exorcist-child, writhing and screaming with a strength and volume that seems impossible for such a little tyke. Sometimes the breakdown happens when the lights go out after we’ve read our books. Other nights she falls asleep without incident, but then wakes up screaming… sometimes from nightmares, sometimes night terrors… and other times just because I have snuck out of the bedroom.
There are safe moments in the bedtime ritual. We get into bed, drink water, arrange the stuffed animals, and prepare to read our books. But for the past couple of weeks, this stretch of the process has been wrought by fear of “ghosts.” As Liana arranged her stuff animals on the bed, she would exclaim that she saw a ghost, and that she was afraid of ghosts. But she didn’t cry or scream, so I just pushed through, insisting that ghosts were make-believe, or asking if it was a nice ghost, or whatever.
Last week, she saw a ghost and jumped on top of me and clung tight, chanting “afraid of ghosts, afraid of ghosts, afraid of ghosts.” So I asked if she could point out the ghost, and she pointed towards her pillow, saying that it was gone. But just as she pointed, she jumped and screamed “there the ghost!!!” I pointed towards the pillow, stating that I did not see the ghost, and as I extended my arm, she squealed again “There!!! There!!! There!!!”
And I saw it.
It was not, however, a ghost. It was the shadow of my arm, being cast on the pillow.
How could I have missed it? For weeks?
“Oh Liana… that is not a ghost! That is my shadow. See?” And I moved my arm to make the shadow move. Intrigued, but not completely convinced, she waved her own arm. When she realized that she had the power to make the image move, she was delighted. So we played with the shadows a bit, making funny shapes and rhythmic motions. She laughed, over and over again.
“Mommy! They just like us!!!”
What a bright little girl. “Yes Liana, that’s right. They are just like us.” The content of her observation… the syntax…. her giggles…. the joy that she felt as she exercised the power of control over the shadows, that were not longer scary… oh… all of it made me just gush with love.
The next day we went looking for shadows on the street. Shadows are fun.
And one, little nighttime problem has been resolved.
There are safe moments in the bedtime ritual. We get into bed, drink water, arrange the stuffed animals, and prepare to read our books. But for the past couple of weeks, this stretch of the process has been wrought by fear of “ghosts.” As Liana arranged her stuff animals on the bed, she would exclaim that she saw a ghost, and that she was afraid of ghosts. But she didn’t cry or scream, so I just pushed through, insisting that ghosts were make-believe, or asking if it was a nice ghost, or whatever.
Last week, she saw a ghost and jumped on top of me and clung tight, chanting “afraid of ghosts, afraid of ghosts, afraid of ghosts.” So I asked if she could point out the ghost, and she pointed towards her pillow, saying that it was gone. But just as she pointed, she jumped and screamed “there the ghost!!!” I pointed towards the pillow, stating that I did not see the ghost, and as I extended my arm, she squealed again “There!!! There!!! There!!!”
And I saw it.
It was not, however, a ghost. It was the shadow of my arm, being cast on the pillow.
How could I have missed it? For weeks?
“Oh Liana… that is not a ghost! That is my shadow. See?” And I moved my arm to make the shadow move. Intrigued, but not completely convinced, she waved her own arm. When she realized that she had the power to make the image move, she was delighted. So we played with the shadows a bit, making funny shapes and rhythmic motions. She laughed, over and over again.
“Mommy! They just like us!!!”
What a bright little girl. “Yes Liana, that’s right. They are just like us.” The content of her observation… the syntax…. her giggles…. the joy that she felt as she exercised the power of control over the shadows, that were not longer scary… oh… all of it made me just gush with love.
The next day we went looking for shadows on the street. Shadows are fun.
And one, little nighttime problem has been resolved.
