My son woke up in a terrible mood this morning, and after I dropped him off at school, I got this idea. Later when I picked him up, I find out he has a temperature and he isn’t feeling well. Which explains the mood. Once I had him tucked in bed, I read him the story. He laughed, and so I wanted to share it. It is messy, so please forgive me, but enjoy!! This one is for my little monster!! 😀

Goblin Dance

By

Josi Wales

     I dread these mornings. I know, you know which ones I am talking about. The moment your child opens their mouth, the moody attitude spews out like the world is ending, and it leaves you clenching your jaw and earning five more grey hairs. Yes, one of those mornings. Your patience is pushed to the max and you just want to show them what it means to really know fear. We had one of those mornings.

Late nights of playing with toys in bed and flashlights under the covers, makes for a super moody boy in the morning. With wooden floors, you can hear when he rolls around and a toy falls off the bed with a clatter. That’s when I roll my eyes and give a verbal warning. Giving him the chance to make the right choice, put down the toy, and drift away to dreamland. But he is only nine years old. The ripe old age of wise wisdom, and knowing that what mom can’t hear she can’t get mad about.

I can sigh now, and be grateful that his teacher works magic. Bless her poor soul. My prayers must have reached the right person, because he came home happier than when he left.

Well, tonight I vowed to get him in bed a little early. Homework is done, with very little mood, shower is complete after the usual whining, but a stern look and a big humph from him, and he slips into bed. He is going to have a good, attitude free, morning and nothing is going to prevent it. Lights out.

With comfy pajamas properly in place, and a steamy cup of hot chocolate in my hands, I curl up on the couch to enjoy the silence, but my peace is shattered when I hear the familiar sound of Legos cascading to the floor.

My eyes roll and I take a breath, “Go to sleep,” I bellow. The room stays quiet, so I grab the book I recently started. Not even half a page later, I can hear his metal bed frame squeaking, the sounds of jumping on the bed echoing down the hall.

“Go to sleep!” I shout, and add under my breath, “please.” Again, it is followed with the blessing of silence.

“Just go to sleep,” I mumble.

I flip the page, one, two, three pages even. My mood starts to lift and the characters open before me. A loud bang comes from his direction. A large book falling to the hard floor, no doubt. I snap my book shut, patience deserting me, and slam the book down on the couch. The carpet muffles my angry stomps and I fling the door open.

All of time and reality freeze as I stared into five sets of tiny yellow eyes. My jaw dropped and so did five other tiny jaws. Little green creatures, maybe no bigger than four inches tall, stood on my sons sleeping body. His eyelids fluttered, the way they would from a bad dream, and I only spent a second wondering if he was actually sleeping before I looked back to the little green goblins. They wore little scraps of fur to cover their gangly bodies, and tiny hairs protruded from the warts that peppered their skin. Tufts of hair grew in patches on the misshaped dome of a head, which was ornamented with overgrown crooked teeth.

I could feel my blood pounding. My heart pumped the fear to my toes and back. Goblins, right in front of me, stood on my son. Was this real? Were these actual goblins? I blinked, they were still there. Rubbing my eyes, I opened them again, but there was only four now. Rubbing again, and there were only three. Where did they go?

The three remaining goblins stared at me. Their little chests lifted with each quick breath. One of them curled a lip at me, mumbling something I couldn’t understand, and received a slap on the back of the head. Surprised, the first goblin slapped its neighbor back, and the neighbor retaliated with a shove. The two broke out in a fight that caused the third to jump in. They rolled all over my son, biting and clawing each other. Stumbling here and there, landing on my son’s face and bouncing back at their attacker. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Looking around the room, I urgently searched for something to trap these goblins in. Tiny squeals and growls drove me frantic as I dug through my son’s toy box. I needed something, anything, to capture them.

“Perfect!” I whispered, when I found a large plastic jar full of odds and ends. Dumping the contents on the floor, I raced to my son’s bedside just to cry out in pain as all the little Lego bits dug into my bare feet. I stumbled back, stepping on more, wincing, and hopping away.

Ready to make a second attempt with my eyes locked on the foul little critters, I paused. Suddenly there were little weights on my legs. I looked down and immediately found the two missing goblins. Fear overloaded me. My legs flung out, whipping this way and that, trying to dislodge the nasty little goblins. I spun around, falling into the wall and bouncing onto the floor.

Nothing else around me mattered as I fought off the leeches. They clung to me like a babies fingers in your hair. They wouldn’t let go. My fingers reached out for a weapon, something I could use against my attackers and free myself. A little hope leapt in me when I latched onto a toy flyswatter. Now armed with a fly shaped swatter, I launched my attack, whacking the goblins over and over, and squealing with each passing second. Their little grunts and groans were barely audibly over my panicking self.

“Get off!” I cried at the tiny menaces, but my words and weapon were useless. As a last resort, I rolled myself across the floor and towards the wall. With everything behind it, I slammed my leg into the wall, missing the first time, but smashing the goblin the second time. With a notable pop, the goblin’s head popped off and fell to the floor. On landing, the head and body poofed into a tiny cloud of dust, and vanished.

It took my mind a moment to realize I still had one on my other leg, but when I felt three plops on the head, I went into full blown terror. I shook my head side to side. The three goblins swinging on my hair like a rope swing, held tight as the ones on my legs did. Now beyond fear, I reached into my hair to grab the vermin. Small, sharp teeth dug into my finger. I cried out and yanked. The roots of my hair resisted as I pulled, but with another yank they let go.

Grabbing the large plastic jar, I threw in the first goblin. Reaching for the next, it bit me multiple times, and I had to let go. Scooting through the Legos to the bed, I snatched a small blanket, and wrapped it around my hand. Securing my next victim, I yanked, losing more hair and tossing another one into the jar.

The third one clinging to my hair grew smarter. I wrapped my blanketed hand around its green body and yanked, but the goblin had a hold of more hair. I couldn’t pull it off without losing half of my hair. Whipping my head around, I tried in vain to slam it into the wall. It hit with a little “oof” everytime, but showed no sign of letting go. My hands flailed and my eyes looked around for help as I freaked. The tiny goblin chuckled and moved in my hair. I screamed and violently shook my head again. I could feel its weight fly from side to side. Dancing in circles with the goblins, chills ran through my body, and I paused.

“That’s it!” I cheered. Tripping to the dresser, I placed my hair on the surface, lifted the lamp that rested on it, and smashed it down on the little goblin. The head popped off, rolling a few inches before poofing and vanishing.

Looking down, and focusing on the last one still clinging to my leg, its eyes wide, I snatched it and pulled. The goblin landed with a thud when I tossed it into the large plastic jar with the other two. They shrieked and squealed, clawing at the sides, but unable to reach the top.

Time slowed down, and I stared in disbelief at the jar in front of me. I glanced to my right as my son stirred in his sleep. Somehow he had slept through that. Brushing his hair back, I kissed him on the forehead.

“Love you, monster,” I whispered. Carrying my captives with me, I secured a lid on the jar, and hid it away in a closet.

In the morning, I told him the story about the goblins and pulled out the jar. He stared in awe and fear as the little green goblins scurried around the bottom of the jar.

Now, when I hear that attitude, I pull out the jar and set it on the counter with a note attached that says, “Change the attitude, or the lid comes off.”