Our monster difficulties peaked one night when my son demanded a dreamcatcher to calm his fears.
I suspect he got this idea from my mother, because although he is part Chippewa (no, don't look at me...), and we have had dreamcatchers in our house before, they've never played a substantial part in his bedroom decor. However, Mom firmly believes in the power of suggestion (or superstition, whichever you prefer) to hinder nightmares.
That would have been fine, had he not demanded one at approximately 9 P.M., in a house devoid of dreamcatchers, seeing as how I had LITERALLY LIKE TWO WEEKS BEFORE gotten rid of two dreamcatchers I had made when I was a kid. Had he been at the house where She Who Probably Suggested It resides, it wouldn't have been an issue, but my house can't double as an awesome museum of all things cultural, and the most Native American-related piece of art I have in my house is a clay pot. That E made me.
But motherhood spawns creativity (along with insanity), so I set to making a dreamcatcher for my son. With the plastic rim off of an oatmeal container. And dental floss. It was harder than I remembered it being when I was 10. I resisted the urge to google instructions, however, and pressed on. The results were slightly lopsided, but recognizable nevertheless.
And the monsters have stayed away from his room ever since.
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