The Furious Spinner

I was in the library yesterday with the mother of my goddesschild. She was trying to find a book to help her 6-year-old son with his nightmares. He had been waking up crying and yelling, afraid someone was outside the house getting ready to come in and kill them. Poor sweetheart. I had terrible awful no-good very rotten nightmares when I was a child. My parents had to hunt around to find me at bedtime because I hid from them so I wouldn't have to go to sleep. My friend and I sat on the library floor talking quietly while we looked through the picture book shelves.

We found There's A Nightmare in My Closet by Meyers, a favorite of mine. When I read it at storytimes, the children always liked it. I asked my friend what she had done so far, and she described making a "monster spray" with him, after he told her a friend of his had "monster spray." She did a whole ritual with her son as they made the spray, and it had helped. He was no longer throwing up from the fear; he was just crying and yelling. This was a private conversation, mind you. We weren't talking loudly. But suddenly, this woman piped up and said, "How old is your son?" "Six." "Give him a Benadryl. That'll knock him out and you'll all get some sleep." My friend laughed. I knew trouble was brewing. I shook my head. Yeah, like knocking a 6-year-old out with an antihistamine is the answer to the problem.

I kept looking for books. Since I work for the library, I really need to be circumspect about what I say while in the library. So I kept my mouth shut. Then the woman said in a voice so condescending I could hardly believe it, "If you're religious, you can have him say his prayers." Now, if she heard our conversation, which obviously she did, she knew we were talking about monster spray and chanting a spell and all the rest of that non-Christian stuff. I was not happy with her interruption and even less happy with her efforts to insert her religious crap into our conversation. I know, I know. When I write what she said it sounds perfectly innocuous and innocent. It wasn't. When I looked at her, she had this Stepford Wife Perfect Christian Mother You Are Evil Talking About Monster Spray smile on her face.

My friend and I said nothing, and we moved even further away from the woman. We found another monster book, but it was about Halloween. I pointedly and loudly (and passive-aggressively, I admit) said, "Well, this is about Halloween and we don't want him to be afraid of Halloween."

I was so beside myself—since I didn't feel free to express myself openly about her remarks—and I felt that my friend and I could no longer speak freely. So I went to the desk and asked Mario to print off the Vagina Blessing post. No, I didn't give it to the woman. I took it to my friend. She laughed outloud as she read it, banishing all the evil spirits from the library.

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