I don’t remember exactly the first time I came to the conclusion that my mom was a vampire, but for several months when I was three years old I was convinced that she was. This wasn’t the first time my imagination had run away from me, nor would it be the last. In the years to come I would continually check the back of our wardrobe for a passage to Narnia, and I truly believed that one day, if I jumped high enough, I would be able to fly. I was heartbroken when I didn’t get my Hogwarts letter when I turned 11, and once when my yiayia was babysitting me I was exposed to a plotline on Days of our Lives that involved a bomb in the trunk of a car making it impossible for me to get into the car before sneaking glances into the trunk of our car before departing for anywhere.
Needless to say, much like any other child my imagination was bolstered by things I read or watched on TV. And although I don’t remember it, a vampire must have entered into my consciousness through some channel at this time in my life. But how did I come to the conclusion that my mother was a vampire?
True she does have pale skin, but she never showed an affinity for cloaks or a fear of garlic. She was also one of the most fun moms around—she willingly would sit on a beach towel with me every time I watched Aladdin and pretend it was a magic carpet—and never gave me any cause to be afraid of her. Whatever my three-year-old reasoning was, it remains a mystery.
Now, I coped with the discovery of my vampire mom much like any child. When she came to kiss me goodnight, I would pull my covers up around my neck so that she couldn’t bite me and drain me of all my blood/turn me into a vampire. I also tried really hard to examine the pointiness of her teeth whenever she talked, though not really understanding different types of teeth at age three, this was mostly a bust. As this was a pre-Twilight fear, I believed vampires only emerged at night, and therefore only feared my mother when she came in at night to kiss me goodnight (hence the brilliant defensive technique of pulling my covers up around my neck), allowing our relationship to continue as normal during the daytime.
After a few months I either came to the conclusion that she wasn’t a vampire or decided that if she were going to turn me into a vampire than she would have already done it. I also think at this point in my life I started to become obsessed with Mary Poppins, and most of my free time was spent trying to coax robins to land on my finger by singing to them as well as trying to clean my room by merely snapping my fingers. Maybe there is such a thing as too much imagination…