Nothing struck fear into my heart when I was 4, than when mom would say "Bedtime!". We lived in a 2-storey Cape house, but when I had to go upstairs to bed, the stairway seemed to have 50 steps (and it was alway SO dark at the top). Each night I was positive that THAT night would be THE night something grabbed me from around the corner once I got to the top, and I'd be devoured before my parents heard my cries for help. Alot of times my pillow would fall off my bed and I was deathly afraid to reach down and pick it up. The fears I have now, such as "Will I be able to make my mortgage payment?", or "Will I have enough money to cover the utility bills this month?", are nothing in comparison to the fears that a 4-year old boy has about what might be waiting under the bed, or in the closet, or in the hallway, etc.
Click on the picture for a larger view.
