“Mommy, there’s a lil monster under my bed,” said little Lorelei.
But Portia couldn’t be bothered. “Honey, we must make friends with the darkness,” she said as she rushed to work, late again.
Portia dismissed the missing goldfish: the cat got it.
A week later, she dismissed the missing cat: it ran away sometimes.
The missing dog, the next week, was harder to dismiss.
Portia desperately interrogated her little daughter the week her son went missing.
Lorelei giggled. “I fed them to the monster growing under my bed.”