I'm hiding. Yogurt in on hand, spoon in the other.  STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! I hear the door to my room creak open. Maybe if I hide under the covers I won't be noticed. My breathing   s l o w s  and my eyes close. I feel the covers being tugged away.  I hold on as tight as I can. Then the fear overwhelms me. I let go.  I lay there, uncovered, but clothed in irresolution. All I wanted was to eat my yogurt. The shrill cries and outreaching arms have me trembling. I throw a teether. Unsuccessful. Its thrown back. I offer a breastmilk pop. He takes it. It seems to calm the beast. Or so I thought. The beast lifts the breastmilk pop high. He quickly and repeatedly swings it towards the ground. Every blow connecting to the floor and pieces fly, it is hailing frozen milk. I am overcome with defeat. The monster's face is streaming with tears and my heart softens. Fear retreats. Frustration subdued. I am overrun with compassion and tenderness. I