January 7, 2010
Unbeknownst to me, a snow monster moved into my one-year-old's bedroom closet. It took up residence in the darkest corner of our house shortly after my children viewed the claymation holiday classic Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. One of the results of this unwanted house guest's stay is that my children will not go upstairs unless every light in the house is turned on and they are accompanied by a muscular adult.
I do not qualify. My husband would be eligible if he didn't happen to be the snow monster's favorite kind of snack.
"You are no match for the Bumble," warned Kellen.
"I have a better chance against the snow monster than you," stated Cortlen.
I have tried numerous things to get rid of the imaginary beast including:
1. Serving the snow monster an eviction notice
2. Showing and discussing ad nauseum the last five minutes of the movie (when the Bumble becomes a vegan and befriends Rudolph)
3. Telling my children that our cats killed the snow monster and ate it while they were at school.
One night, I even made a Bumble stew.
"This is chicken," said Camber flatly, holding up a piece of monster meat.
The only solution to ridding my house of the snow monster, it seems, involves hand-to-hand combat.
"You want me to fight the snow monster?" I asked.
"What happens if the snow monster wins?" I wanted to know.
"Then we'll have to find a new mom," they replied and rolled their eyes, amazed that I couldn't figure out the obvious on my own.
"That's a nice thought," I answered sarcastically as I descended into the bowels of the basement to look for a box of dumbbells.
The conversation left me with the sneaking suspicion that at least half of my children are rooting for the snow monster.