I was putting the kiddos to bed last night and I asked The Boy if he wanted to say his prayers. As usual he was wicked excited. He held hands with me and The Daughterchild and proceded to drop this number on me.
"Jesus name and thank you for safe. And Mommy and Sister safe. And thank you for us watch Ratty Tootie and go to sleep for a long long long time. And not let the robot monsters to get me... this time. Safe again and again and again. The End. Amen."
In telling this to others there was fear (probably legitimate) that my near obsession with Star Wars may be causing life scarring issues with the kiddos. I felt it was time to share the full story of the Robot Monster Saga. If for no other reason than to vindicate Star Wars, possibly the greatest Science Fiction movie ever.
When I was two (my parents have told me) that I use to say I couldn't go to bed because, "Monsters were eating my mattress."
The Boy has a similar problem. One night while I was still driving truck for a living, he began telling CA he couldn't go to bed cause there were Robot Monsters in his bedroom. Explaining that there were no monsters was a fruitless effort. CA, being who she is, and way more creative than me, grabbed a trash bag and I think a shoe. She went in The Boy's room, told him to stay in the hall and shut the door. She banged on the walls, slammed the closet door a few times and filled the trash bag with air and twisted the top.
When she came out shaking the bag shouting, "I got it!" The Boy was in the hall with eyes the size of dinner plates.
"What you do Mommy?"
"I got the robot monster. I'm taking him outside to put him in the trash."
The Boy watched attentively from the window as she went outside, opened the trash can and put the empty bag, that later deflated, in the trash can and slammed the lid down tight. She shot him a thumbs up. He returned it and went to bed without a problem.
Its very important you understand that she told me NONE of this.
We live in the boondocks and don't have trash pick up. Once or twice a week I run the cans to the dump which is maybe 2 miles away.
I asked The Boy a few days later if he wanted to go with me to the dump (He pronounces it tha doomp). He was of course more thrilled than a hound dog to be going for a ride in the car. He ran out, opened the door and hopped in his car seat and began trying to buckle the seat belt. I buckled his seat belt and everything was super-terrific!
And then I put a trash can in the back of the SUV.
He came UNHINGED! I mean Defcon 1-the sky is falling-Godzilla at the Tokoyo city limits loss of control.
I had no idea why.
Between tears and howls he "explained" (*read* I was able to almost understand and piece together) that 1. there were robot monsters in the trash 2. they were bad and 3. gonna get him.
This made no sense to me, but I went with it. I showed him the trashcan lids can't come off easy and that they were in the back back, not in his seat. Also, I let him hold my Zombie Hammer ( its an 18 inch framing hammer I keep in the car in case of Zombie Apocalypse) "just in case" and that helped a lot.
When we got to the dump I unbuckled The Boy's seat belt and let him watch the trash go into the compactor. Then the attendant (which is a whole different story in itself) crushed the trash. Then he compacted it a second time for The Boy "just to be sure." He was referring to the squishing of the trash, but The Boy took it to mean he was really giving it to the robot monsters, who I assumed deserved it. The Boy and I looked in the cans to make sure they were empty and put them back in the car. We drove home and put the cans up.
I told CA what happened and she howled the whole time. Also, I think she insisted upon a pee break while I was telling the story. Then she told me her half of the story.
Since then, we rarely have had issues with the Robot Monsters, and The Boy ALWAYS wants to go with me to tha doomp.
"Jesus name and thank you for safe. And Mommy and Sister safe. And thank you for us watch Ratty Tootie and go to sleep for a long long long time. And not let the robot monsters to get me... this time. Safe again and again and again. The End. Amen."
In telling this to others there was fear (probably legitimate) that my near obsession with Star Wars may be causing life scarring issues with the kiddos. I felt it was time to share the full story of the Robot Monster Saga. If for no other reason than to vindicate Star Wars, possibly the greatest Science Fiction movie ever.
When I was two (my parents have told me) that I use to say I couldn't go to bed because, "Monsters were eating my mattress."
The Boy has a similar problem. One night while I was still driving truck for a living, he began telling CA he couldn't go to bed cause there were Robot Monsters in his bedroom. Explaining that there were no monsters was a fruitless effort. CA, being who she is, and way more creative than me, grabbed a trash bag and I think a shoe. She went in The Boy's room, told him to stay in the hall and shut the door. She banged on the walls, slammed the closet door a few times and filled the trash bag with air and twisted the top.
When she came out shaking the bag shouting, "I got it!" The Boy was in the hall with eyes the size of dinner plates.
"What you do Mommy?"
"I got the robot monster. I'm taking him outside to put him in the trash."
The Boy watched attentively from the window as she went outside, opened the trash can and put the empty bag, that later deflated, in the trash can and slammed the lid down tight. She shot him a thumbs up. He returned it and went to bed without a problem.
Its very important you understand that she told me NONE of this.
We live in the boondocks and don't have trash pick up. Once or twice a week I run the cans to the dump which is maybe 2 miles away.
I asked The Boy a few days later if he wanted to go with me to the dump (He pronounces it tha doomp). He was of course more thrilled than a hound dog to be going for a ride in the car. He ran out, opened the door and hopped in his car seat and began trying to buckle the seat belt. I buckled his seat belt and everything was super-terrific!
And then I put a trash can in the back of the SUV.
He came UNHINGED! I mean Defcon 1-the sky is falling-Godzilla at the Tokoyo city limits loss of control.
I had no idea why.
Between tears and howls he "explained" (*read* I was able to almost understand and piece together) that 1. there were robot monsters in the trash 2. they were bad and 3. gonna get him.
This made no sense to me, but I went with it. I showed him the trashcan lids can't come off easy and that they were in the back back, not in his seat. Also, I let him hold my Zombie Hammer ( its an 18 inch framing hammer I keep in the car in case of Zombie Apocalypse) "just in case" and that helped a lot.
When we got to the dump I unbuckled The Boy's seat belt and let him watch the trash go into the compactor. Then the attendant (which is a whole different story in itself) crushed the trash. Then he compacted it a second time for The Boy "just to be sure." He was referring to the squishing of the trash, but The Boy took it to mean he was really giving it to the robot monsters, who I assumed deserved it. The Boy and I looked in the cans to make sure they were empty and put them back in the car. We drove home and put the cans up.
I told CA what happened and she howled the whole time. Also, I think she insisted upon a pee break while I was telling the story. Then she told me her half of the story.
Since then, we rarely have had issues with the Robot Monsters, and The Boy ALWAYS wants to go with me to tha doomp.
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