



And so, dropping to all fours, with a savage glint in my eye and a feral grin on my face, I let out a roar. In response Hannah shrieks with delight and runs to her room where she dives under the blankets and waits for the "Daddy Monster."









I roar down the hallway, crawling slowly so as to amplify the suspense, and, upon reaching her room, say in a deep and growling voice: "Where is my dinner?"





When I finally catch Hannah she giggles and laughs and after a brief tickle I let her go so that we can repeat the process in the other direction.





This delight in the face of a 'monster' is possibly precisely because this monster is the 'daddy monster.'





If only all of the monsters we faced were loved ones in disguise. If only all of the monsters, upon catching us, wanted noting more than to see us laugh and then released us to run again, shrieking with delight, for another round of fun.





I can't help thinking that this wish, in some small way, intersects with heaven.

"Daddy, be a monster." Asks Hannah, my 3 year old daughter.