When I was very small I used to think there was a monster living under my bed with a giant pair of scissors, waiting to cut my feet off at the ankles as I climbed into or out of bed. Apparently they were not very good scissors, though, because as long as I was wearing socks the monster could not cut my feet off. I wore socks to bed religiously. Later my parents bought me a trundle bed and that crowded the scissor monster out, though for awhile just my toes were in some peril. Sometimes I would lie awake in bed and wonder if Batman and Robin might come rescue me from the horrible beast. I had a crush on Burt Ward.
Once I was safely in bed with my socks on, I could switch my concentration to lying just so on the upper left side of my head. I have a big cowlick there and when I was small and my hair still baby-fine, there wasn't enough weight there to keep it down. I was always waking up with a chunk of hair looking as though I'd been shocked and terrified - but only sort of. So I thought if I could just sleep on that part of my head hard enough it would keep my hair down. It never did.
I don't think I ever shared any of that information with my parents and now, when I tiptoe into the girls' room to check on them, I wonder what kind of crazy stuff they think about as they nod off to sleep at night. Tonight at dinner, while cramming her food into her mouth, Kate informed me that there is a monster in the house and it's blue with blue eyes. I gasped and earnestly asked if the monster carried a cartoonishly large pair of scissors. She just sort of blinked at me (email me for further lessons on giving your child nightmares). A few minutes later Kate said "there are no monsters here!" authoritatively. But just in case, I am wearing socks.