The Night Time Monster

Just when I thought that The Don was a good sleeper, someone put a monkey wrench in the plans.  We would do our bedtime routine; potty, wash hands, brush teeth, good night hug and kiss, then tuck him in and say goodnight. After about five minutes, The Don would be fast asleep. For the past, I don’t know three to four weeks, this awesome kid who would try to go to sleep as soon as his door closes, turned into the fiercest, means, roaring little tyrant that I’ve ever seen.  I call him ‘The Night Time Monster’. 

This is what I imagine The Night Time Monster
would look like. Credit

The Night Time Monster starts rearing its ugly head sometime after dinner around seven-ish.  He starts crying to go to the potty, then screams and cries that he needs help.  If the sunlight in the bathroom isn’t bright enough, then The Night Time Monster will not go to the bathroom, demand that the bright bathroom light to be turned on and would throw the ugliest tantrum you’ve ever seen if you didn’t comply.  I would have to stand by his bedroom door  so he can go to the bathroom, which was only a foot away.  He would pee then flush without getting all his pee out and run back to the bedroom because he’s afraid of the half lighted bathroom. 

The monster would go into his room and start cleaning up his toys.  He would take his time putting his toys away and would ignore you if you tell him to go faster so he can have ‘fun time’.  The monster would say, ‘roller skate please, roller skate, please.’ My husband has ‘fun time’ with The Don I mean ‘The Night Time Monster’ by having him roller skate in his room and in the hallways so he can learn how to skate.  Sometimes I would partake in the fun because I need to learn to skate too and some days, I just want that hour to myself to workout.  The monster would scream for me to skate with him, to play with him, to come with me if I’m leaving him.  This night however, I decided to take my hour to myself to workout.

Around eight thirty-ish, I come upstairs after my workout to take a shower.  As I’m coming up the stairs, all I hear is ‘Mama.  Mama please’.  So I quietly creep up to the third floor to take my shower as my husband is finishing up daddy fun time hour.  After my shower, I walk pass The Night Time Monsters room and he sees me, my husband says to him, “It’s time to take your shower, then you can read daddy ‘Go Dog, Go’ and get ready for bed.” 

“Mama, go upstairs with you?” The monster whined. 

“You’ll see me later, after you showered,” I told him. 

About eight forty-five-ish, I’m in my writing room checking emails, when I hear the monster and my husband come downstairs and into his room.  The two of them read ‘Go Dog, Go’, and then get ready for the bedtime routine.  When the monster comes into the writing room and says good night but before he do he makes one request.  The one request that I use to love to hear but, since he became the monster, I really dread hearing those words.  He said, “Mama tucks you in.”  ‘Shit’ I say to myself. About three weeks ago after I had my explosive breakdown, my husband took over the duty of tucking The Don in so I can be free at night.  The monster was persistent in his conquest in having mama tuck him in. 

After the bedtime ritual, I came in to tuck The Night Time Monster in and my husband was free.  The monster said that he was hungry. The monster said that he was thirsty.  The monster said that he wanted to skate again.  The monster said that he wanted a story.   I told him we’re not going downstairs to eat because I warned him that if he doesn’t eat all his food that he doesn’t get anything else.  I told him he can have some water instead.  I told him no more skating or story reading until tomorrow and it’s time to go to bed.  The monster took a sip of water, laid in the bed, and turned on his Baby Einstein mobile to help him sleep.  I thought I defeated him and he wasn’t going to ask anymore questions because he knows that mama knows he’s stalling and doesn’t want to go to bed.

I walked down the stairs to the kitchen to get some snacks before I start writing when I heard this loud, obnoxious, ear piercing roar coming from The Don’s room.  It was The Night Time Monster in full swing.  I could hear the stumping of his feet above the kitchen ceiling.  I could feel the vibrations of his crying, roaring, and screaming for “MAMA!”  My husband, sitting at the dining room table eating his dinner hearing the screams and probably glad that he didn’t get to tuck him in tonight.  He dodged the bullet this time.  I told my husband if I can’t handle The Night Time Monster, then I’ll him know and he can handle him.

I walked upstairs, passed The Night Time Monsters room, put my snacks and water on my writing table, went to the bathroom, took a deep breathe, and went into the monsters layer.  The monster was crying, yet no tears; I demanded him to tell him want he wanted. 

The monster said, “Eat!” 

“No, I’ve explained this before.  You didn’t finish all your food and there no more to give.” 

“No more food,” the monster repeated.                                                

“No more food but you can drink some more water. You will eat in the morning with daddy for breakfast. I’ll tuck you in again and you go to sleep. Ok?”


I tuck him in again and before I left the room, the monster calmly said, “Good night mama.” Just like that, The Don went to sleep without any more protest.

What the hell was that? It’s like The Don returned and the night time monster left so quickly.  I didn’t know what to make of it.  Was he testing me to see if I would break?   These bouts with the night time monster aren’t pleasant at all.  I’m ready to start flipping a coin with my husband to see who would put The Don to bed at night.   ‘Go away Night Time Monster. Stop possessing my boy and return my sweet boy to me because I need my me time and you’re in the damn way.’


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