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Rated: E · Short Story · Children's · #1484970
Children are consistent in their inconsistency.
Day 7 - Prompt: Under the bed

Nanni’s face materialised over the banister, three steps up from the hallway.

“Aren’t you coming with me, Mommy?”

I had shooed her into going to bed with a firm but loving hand on her reluctant bottom. Even at six, she was an expert at squeezing extra minutes beyond her bed-time. I had just issued the times-up edict; prising the TV remote from a pleading hand.

“Pet, just go on up, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Uh-uh, the stairs make a kweek, now.”

Her face had that determined look that said I-will-not-budge. I knew it of old; my little daughter had the stubbornness that would shame a balking mule. Those old stairs did creak, on the fourth step and the tenth, in an eerie echo that missed a beat.

I put down the duster that was giving a sweep-off-the-mess cleansing to the counter-top and gave my attention to more important things. First a reassuring hug, next a lift over the pesky step. Now the tickle as we went up five more, accompanied by satisfied wriggling and giggling from Nanni. Last, another lift and a kiss as she was hoisted onto the eleventh step.

The inevitable accepted, her back quickly rounded the landing; her hand polishing the handrails as she climbed.

I was as scrubbed up and ready to go as any surgeon on ‘Scrubs’; a sink full of dishes lay in wait of my skills. Mothers had to contend with factors that pampered surgeons on TV sitcoms never did, one being the-voice-from-above. Usually a ploy to either waste time or just gain attention, today there was a note of desperation in it. I wiped off the suds and dashed up the stairs, two to a stride.

“Mommmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeee!”

Impatience, fear, anguish, all nicely blended in that strident call for help. I found the room door wide open, a little figure dancing on the bed in frenzy so close to a crying jag that I skidded in without stopping.

Nanni was clad only in pyjama top, the bottom discarded mid-way between bath and bed. Her beloved stuffed bunny was askew by the crumpled heap.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

An indignant hiccup and a half-sob was the only answer to my inane query.

I sat down upon the bed and patted the space next to me; I had my arms full of a sobbing child in the next instant.

A rambling tale of noises emerged; there were rustling noises - maybe a whisper or two - and certainly some cowardice on Bunniekins' part.

I soothed and murmured; I promised and cajoled. A guarded compromise having been established, I managed to get the pyjama bottoms smoothed out and over plump waving legs. The comforter was drawn back; little persuasion was required for the now-angelic figure to dive in and be tucked up with a kiss.

I then pretended to be a magician as exaggerated sweeping motions restored a frightened Bunniekins to his ‘mommy’; switching off all but the bedside reading light. All creatures of the night were solemnly banished with a ‘Rimmy-roo-ri-ra’ incantation as the drapes were swished open and shut the three times demanded by the ritual.

All was satisfactory, the lids were half-closed and one little hand drew B'kins closer with a small sigh of contentment. I might even get out of reading her to sleep today.

Brown eyes opened wide and turned full upon me like nougat searchlights, “Read me a story, Mommy.”

I relegated thoughts of waiting chores to the stock-pile of things-that-must-wait-while-my-child-needs-me.

“Which one will you have, dear? The girl who could not be woken up for a hundred years? Or the story of the girl who lost her slipper? ” Nanni had a way of re-naming all-time favourites according to how they impacted upon her mind.

“No!” was the firm answer.

“I want to listen to that one - the girl who found a Wolf in the Bed.” An imperious finger pointed at the familiar picture of a caped and hooded figure in red.

So, my daughter settled down to her bed-time story, blissfully unaware of the contradiction in being fond of this gory bed-time tale; when just a few minutes ago the rustling of a discarded candy-wrapper had given her hysterical notions of Monsters under the Bed.

Red Riding Hood it was.

© Copyright 2008 Just an Ordinary Boo! (jyo_an at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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