The big one has monsters under the bed. At the moment, they are dinosaurs with names that tie her tongue into knots. A few weeks ago, they were witches with cackly laughs and warts on their noses. In the run up to christmas, they were evil elves, no doubt.
Sometimes the monsters under the bed are people. Sometimes they have normal names and pleasant looking faces that form a mask to hide the monsters beneath. Sometimes they pretend to be friends when really they are nothing of the sort.
I had monsters under my bed when I was a child. At first, they were just monsters. The big, snarly, sharp-toothed and long-clawed type monsters. Then they became monsters that could really hurt you. They became people.
I used to want my mum to come to school with me. I used to want her to stick up for me in the playground. For a while, I went home for lunch each day and that was the only time I had a break from the monsters. A couple of times, I pretended to be poorly so that I could stay at home and take a break from the monsters altogether.
The monsters under the bed make you feel small, ashamed and insignificant. The monsters under the bed get bigger as you get smaller. The monsters feed on things that hurt you and things that make you feel sad. Don’t feed the monsters.
I am going to scare away the monsters under the big one’s bed. I am going to equip her with a shield and a sword and the courage to fight back. I am going to be there with her when the monsters attack and together we will defeat them once and for all. I will make my daughter bigger, stronger and braver than the monsters. I will make sure that when she goes to bed, she forgets to peep underneath.