Where the Wild Things Are
I know he will fear the terrible creatures, their teeth and claws. He is building the little boat that will take him there, and there is no room for me. He’ll launch it without fearful memories, confident he has the tricks to tame them.
I cannot tell him not all monsters have yellow eyes.
I cannot tell him that boats might can sink and people drown, and never come home from that place.
I cannot tell him I will always be there, or that I can make them go away.
But I have helped him make his wee paper crown, and fixed it on his head.