"I'm scary."
This is the endless plea we hear from Jack's room once he is in bed. Is he pretending to be a monster?
No. He's scared. He just can't remember the right way to say the word. Which makes the endless, 45-60 minute session of continually walking him back to his room at least bearable as we crack up every time he says it.
The thing is, I can't fault him as I remember being afrid of the dark when I was a kid and sneaking down to my parents room to climb in their bed and feel safe.
We leave the closet light on.
We give him a nightlight.
We give him his bear to cuddle up with.
We walk around the room and let him see us checking for "scary things".
1 minute after we leave the room, a little head pokes into the office.
"Mom, I'm scary."
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