Jaci Dawn

A couple weeks or so ago, I read “Where the Wild Things Are” to Zephan.

I had no idea what a mistake that would be. It launched something none of us have been able to curb: Zephan’s love of the Wild Things. Monsters. Rawr.

Then I rented “Monsters, Inc.” on Netflicks.

And an addiction was born.

Zephan has to watch “Monsters, Inc.” at least once a day. And he begs Baba to read “monsters” to him (“Where the Wild Things Are”). Tonight he cuddle with me and told me stories (mostly incoherent toddler-babble). But even I could make out “Rawr” and “Monsters” and “Story” and “TV”. He wanted me to read stories to him, specifically “The Tickle Monster” by Josie Bissett and “Where the Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak. Especially the latter.

Maybe Zephan identifies with Max, the hero?

I don’t know. I just love how his imagination has taken hold of him and he curls his little fingers up and says, “Rawr!”

I did not read any stories to him tonight. We just cuddled and talked about the stories he thought I should read him. I knew better than to get the books out: Zephan is a bit obsessive. He’d want the same story over-and-over-and-over again and then he would cry if I couldn’t provide that for him.

But talking was good.

As he climbed the stairs to head to bed (or at least, quiet time) with his mom and little brother at 8:00, he peered down through the stair rails and said, very clearly, “Nite-nite Monsers!”

To which we replied, “Nite-nite Little Monser!”