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[Gattigap]

I can't remember how old I was, really. Probably 7 or 8 years old, I guess. But I do remember the nightmare. I remember waking up with a start, sitting up ramrod straight in bed and calling for my parents.

It must've been pretty late (or pretty early). My Dad came into my room, bleary eyed, and asked, What's the matter?

I had a nightmare, Dad. It was horrible.

What about?

I was stuck on railroad tracks, and I was trying to get away from a train.

And then what happened?

I kept trying to get away. I couldn't just walk off the tracks, I had to keep running on them. And it got closer, and closer. And CLOSER. It was going to run me over!

And then what happened?

Well ... I woke up! It was horrible.

With the benefit of perspective and time, I know that it was because it was late (or early), and my Dad was exhausted. That's most likely why he sighed and told me that what I described was a dumb nightmare as nightmares go, and I should get over it and go back to sleep. He got up, turned out the light, and left me in the dark to sort it out on my own.

I hated that. And I swore then and there with the kind of stone-cold certainty that only 7 year olds possess that when I was a father, by God I was going to listen to my son and give him more comfort than that, you asshole.

******

So I have a 9yo son. One who, as a younger child, seemed scared of his own shadow. It was a source of significant frustration back when the kid was a toddler. It's less of an issue these days, but sometimes even today the problem still rears its head.

This evening after the boys are to bed, I hear Daaaaad, DaaAAAAAaaaaad! from upstairs from the 9yo. Convinced that his calls will wake the 5yo Gaplet, I hustle upstairs to get him to stop.

What's the matter?

I'm having scary thoughts.

What about?

Gaplet then, over the course of about 5 minutes, starts to tell me a long, rambling and discursive story about the movie clip that he saw as a preview for another movie - one that lasted about 3 or 4 seconds, but had a scene with a kid about his age in bed who rolls over and sees a scary-looking monster dude in bed next to him to yells "Surprise!" all spooky-like and wow, it was scary, and I just can't get it out of my head!

I stifle the impulse to tell him to get over it and go back to sleep and think, Well, Gatti, this is your Teachable Moment.

So I take a deep breath, and talk it through with him. I explain how movies are made, that they're make-believe (which he, of course, knows.) I make up a story about how even thought the freaky monster dude looks horrible, he's probably a normal, nice guy who gets transformed after sitting in the makeup artist's chair for several hours, like with Gaplet's experiences in some theater productions. I make up a story about how the day they shot that scene, he probably had really bad gas and sat in the makeup chair and farted out the tune to Camptown Ladies - which I figured (correctly) would be a big hit with my 9yo. I got him laughing about it, and explained that this is what he could think about if the movie got stuck in his head again, and in any event it was time to go to bed. I turn out the lights and whistle a couple of bars to Camptown Ladies, to giggles from Gaplet.

I walk downstairs, thinking, nice job, Gatti. You sly devil, you.

10 minutes later. Daaaaaad. DaAAAAAAAAAaaaaad!

I hustle upstairs. Dad, Gaplet says, I can't shake this image, and can't get to sleep. What do I do?

I clasp my hand to stifle the strangling impulse and say, Look. I'll get Mom to come talk it through with you. Maybe she'll have some other ideas.

I walk downstairs and tell Ms. Gap, your turn. "Okay," says she.

She wanders upstairs, talks with Gaplet for a few minutes, and soon all lights are out. She comes downstairs.

So what'd you say?

"I told him to get over it."

WHAT? No, nonononono. That's supposed to be MY job, dammit.

"Huh uh. You're going to be the good cop."

Gattigap