Daisy and Nightmares
Daisy has been very concerned about nightmares lately. The interesting thing is that it's not that she's HAVING them, I don't think; it's that she's learned about the concept and is worried that she COULD have them. She often tells me now that she doesn't want to sleep because she might have bad dreams. For some reason, she thinks they will really afflict her at age eleven. I have no idea how she got this in her head, but she'll say, "Mommy, I don't want to get eleven" (that's how she says it--get eleven), "because I will have bad dreams." For awhile she was telling me she wanted to be two again, and it took me some time to figure out why: she wants not to get older because she thinks bad dreams afflict older kids.
It's amazing to me how thoughtful she is, though, and how she deals with some of these problems with her own thinking powers. Today in the car, on our way to a birthday party, Daisy was quiet for a long time and then she said to me, apropos of nothing, "Mama, when I get eleven, I will have bad dreams, but I will try to think happy thoughts so that I won't have them. I am going to think happy thoughts right now." I asked her what happy thoughts she could think about, and she said, "Mummies, rabbits, and crocodiles."
I love it that mummies are happy thoughts for Daisy. Apparently, the King Tut exhibit and our book on mummies did not scar her for life. She has told us that she would like to own a cat mummy, and is puzzled that we can't get one for her (she also told me that she would like it to talk). She admitted that "crocodiles" was a mixed thought, because they could bite, but in general she still considered them a happy thought.
One quality of Daisy's that I always have to keep in mind is that she really takes things seriously and mulls them over in great depth. This means I have to be careful what I introduce her to, but I can't always predict what's going to make an impression. Case in point: the mummy exhibit delighted her and did not traumatize her. But all of a sudden, a book she's loved since babyhood--Maurice Sendak's _In the Night Kitchen_--has been making her upset. She asks us questions about this book constantly now, obsessing about specific details (Why does he go down through a hole in the floor? Why is he floating? Why do the bakers put him in the batter? Why do they confuse him with milk? And for every answer we give, she has a follow-up question). She has let us know in no uncertain terms that she no longer likes this book and is abjectly terrified of the image where Mickey is in the batter with just his hand sticking up. We explained that the whole book is a dream, and that is part of why she is now worried about dreams, I think.
And she is so smart, this girl: she remembers little details from books and has taken to calling me on some of my explanations. I can't even believe it sometimes. Today, when she was yet again telling me how scared she is of _In the Night Kitchen_ and bad dreams, I told her that if she ever has a bad dream, all she has to do is call out for me and I'll be there to help make it better. Without hesitation, she said, "Mickey called out for HIS mama and dada in the book." (Yep, true. And they don't come.) So apparently she'd already thought about this and concluded that mothers and fathers can let you down. Smart girl.
In this respect, Daisy reminds me of myself. I can remember books making powerful impressions on me as a little kid, and focusing on particular images and details, becoming terrified or morbidly sad. Daisy is definitely not the kind of kid who is just going to accept an easy explanation, or blow something off that has intense content. Again, I would try to shelter her from intense content, and some decisions are obvious, but there really is no telling what might strike her. The most cozy, non-threatening books in the world are the _Mr. Putter and Tabby_ books, but there is one Daisy can't bear to read because Mrs. Teaberry slips on a kiwi and breaks her leg (or breaks something, can't remember what). So that book gets a big NO from Daisy. She is a sensitive soul. That makes life harder sometimes, I know.
It's amazing to me how thoughtful she is, though, and how she deals with some of these problems with her own thinking powers. Today in the car, on our way to a birthday party, Daisy was quiet for a long time and then she said to me, apropos of nothing, "Mama, when I get eleven, I will have bad dreams, but I will try to think happy thoughts so that I won't have them. I am going to think happy thoughts right now." I asked her what happy thoughts she could think about, and she said, "Mummies, rabbits, and crocodiles."
I love it that mummies are happy thoughts for Daisy. Apparently, the King Tut exhibit and our book on mummies did not scar her for life. She has told us that she would like to own a cat mummy, and is puzzled that we can't get one for her (she also told me that she would like it to talk). She admitted that "crocodiles" was a mixed thought, because they could bite, but in general she still considered them a happy thought.
One quality of Daisy's that I always have to keep in mind is that she really takes things seriously and mulls them over in great depth. This means I have to be careful what I introduce her to, but I can't always predict what's going to make an impression. Case in point: the mummy exhibit delighted her and did not traumatize her. But all of a sudden, a book she's loved since babyhood--Maurice Sendak's _In the Night Kitchen_--has been making her upset. She asks us questions about this book constantly now, obsessing about specific details (Why does he go down through a hole in the floor? Why is he floating? Why do the bakers put him in the batter? Why do they confuse him with milk? And for every answer we give, she has a follow-up question). She has let us know in no uncertain terms that she no longer likes this book and is abjectly terrified of the image where Mickey is in the batter with just his hand sticking up. We explained that the whole book is a dream, and that is part of why she is now worried about dreams, I think.
And she is so smart, this girl: she remembers little details from books and has taken to calling me on some of my explanations. I can't even believe it sometimes. Today, when she was yet again telling me how scared she is of _In the Night Kitchen_ and bad dreams, I told her that if she ever has a bad dream, all she has to do is call out for me and I'll be there to help make it better. Without hesitation, she said, "Mickey called out for HIS mama and dada in the book." (Yep, true. And they don't come.) So apparently she'd already thought about this and concluded that mothers and fathers can let you down. Smart girl.
In this respect, Daisy reminds me of myself. I can remember books making powerful impressions on me as a little kid, and focusing on particular images and details, becoming terrified or morbidly sad. Daisy is definitely not the kind of kid who is just going to accept an easy explanation, or blow something off that has intense content. Again, I would try to shelter her from intense content, and some decisions are obvious, but there really is no telling what might strike her. The most cozy, non-threatening books in the world are the _Mr. Putter and Tabby_ books, but there is one Daisy can't bear to read because Mrs. Teaberry slips on a kiwi and breaks her leg (or breaks something, can't remember what). So that book gets a big NO from Daisy. She is a sensitive soul. That makes life harder sometimes, I know.
posted by Sarah Goss at 9:27 PM
3 Comments:
My advice is to skip DRACULA.
Gompy
How funny! That part of In the Night Kitchen where the kid was in the batter scared ME too. As I remember it, I was afraid of not being able to breathe. I would stare at that picture until I couldn't stand it anymore and then I'd slam the book shut!
Jenny
Think "In the Night Kitchen" is a powerful book. For me, my memories are of searching shelves of the elementary school library in vain for this book - one of my favorites. I could never remember the title! (which meant I couldn't find it in the card catalogue.) It is indeed a creepy book in an exciting sort of way -- even now. I think the dough enveloping and expanding is the scary part for me. And those heavily black and yellow illustrations have quite an impact... and are rather different from Sendak's other illustrations I think. Where the Wild Things Are is a favorite for many people I know, but In the Night Kitchen is/was my fave!
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