A Cry for Help
In the midst of my constant blogging about interesting things in my life and giving other people suggestions, I’ve got a bit of a switch-up, tonight: I could really use some help, here. About two months ago, my five-year-old son, David, suddenly became terrified of the dark, of going upstairs by himself, and of going to bed by himself. (He’s our only living son, so he’s been going to bed by himself since he was an infant.) At first, he was afraid of zombies; these days, he’s just plain afraid, ostensibly without the ability to articulate just what it is that scares him. Either way, the problem is the same: we have a lot of trouble getting him to go to bed. We’ve tried talking to him, assuring him that zombies aren’t real ( CDC page notwithstanding). We’ve helped him look out the window, to let him see that there’s nothing out there. We leave his lights on all night, so he’s not afraid of the darkness. We bought him a dream catcher, to help “keep the nightmares away.” I taught him