The Monster Helmet

Before I go into telling you what, exactly, a Monster Helmet is, I'd like to build my defense run you through the day I had. Ben spent most of the day like this:

"But how did that cherub of a boy earn time in the slammer?" you ask?

"Which specific jail-term are you talking about?" is my reply.

One for putting Cheerios down the floor vent. (He knows this is a major no-no. I'm just glad he stopped putting pennies and crayons down there. I don't even want to know where he found the Cheerios or how old they were, especially because we haven't had Cheerios for breakfast in days.)

Another one for pelting me in the head with a tennis ball. (He was channeling his inner John McEnroe.)

Another for sitting on the cat, and another almost immediately after that for sitting on the other cat. (He's going to be a corporate lawyer when he grows up...this kid can find loopholes anywhere.)

There were several more misdemeanors after those and every time, after he was warned at least once, he'd earn himself time in the clink. And on a completely cute side note, his idea of counting goes something like this:

"Wun. Too. Free. Fo. Fie. Shix. Sewen. Ate. Nooine. Ten. Ewewen. Chicken. Foteen. Ateen. TOOWENNY!!"

Yes, he says, "chicken".

And every single time he was thrown in the can, it played out something like this:

And then a few quick:

To save me some photo storage space on the interwebs, just scroll up and down a few times between those two pictures. You'll get the general idea of how the boy spends his time in the pokey.

This brings us to the "Monster Helmet". See, Andy was outside playing with the kids next door. The three of us (plus our two dogs) had been playing near the creek for about an hour. When Andy's buddies got home, Andy ditched us, leaving a very sad Ben behind. It's so hard to explain to little kids the complicated politics of "big kids". Anyhow, we headed back inside and not only was Benny bored out of his gourd, but he was in the mood for some more trouble-making.

After 20 minutes of trying to entertain him with books and toys and ridiculous dances and fruit snacks, I quit. I went over to the computer to check email, and he went looking for a place to sit the cats. Now, the wind had been blowing all day, but at about 5pm, it was really howling. Ben bolted out from behind the couch and whispered, "Montoes, Mommy."

Now, for those of you who do not speak Ben, "Montoes" =Except, I'm pretty sure that in his head, they're not exactly of the cute, Disney/Pixar variety.

"No, Ben. That's the wind. There are no monsters." I said.



"Yes, Mommy. Montoes." He whispered again, moving a little closer to where I was sitting.



"No, really. It's the wind. See the trees moving? That noise is just the wind, I promise." I said.



The wind picked up again and Ben was convinced I was lying.



"Yes, Mommy!" he demanded. "MON-TOES!" I knew when he emphasised each syllable in "montoes", he meant business.



I was spent. I just wanted to relax for a while before starting dinner, but he was convinced we were under seige by the supernatural. So, I did what any candidate for Mother-of-the-Year would do. I went along with it.



"Oooh, Benny! You're right! That IS a monster! Quick! Grab that!" and I pointed to an empty laundry basket sitting by the couch. I swear, I've never seen that kid move so fast in his life. He brought it back to me and waited for his next command. "Ok, now put it on your head. This is a Monster Helmet and as long as you are wearing it, the monsters can't get you." He put it on his head and stood there:


Yes, there is most definitely a special place in...uh...the afterlife, for me.



He kept that thing on for about 30 minutes. He walked around the house, played with the cats, put some toys away and even read a book. All while wearing his protective gear. And you know what? Not once did he land himself back in the slammer.



And just so the last image I leave you with isn't one with a basket on Benny's noggin, I give you these, taken today:

and this:

Nighty-night!