When my daughter turned five, her imagination bloomed in ways that amazed me. She’d tell stories about fairies in the backyard and clouds shaped like animals. So when she whispered one evening, “Mommy, I’m scared of the man in the closet,” I brushed her hair gently and reassured her it was just a dream. Childhood fears come and go, I told myself.

That night, curiosity nudged me. After she fell asleep, I quietly opened her closet door, half-expecting to see nothing more than stuffed animals and tiny dresses. And that’s exactly what I found—neat little hangers and soft blankets. I smiled, turned off the light, and went to bed believing everything was fine. Parenting, after all, is mostly about calming worries—hers and mine.

The next evening, while I was washing dishes, a sudden scream shattered the quiet. My heart raced as I hurried to her room. She stood pointing at the closet, tears streaming, trembling but unable to speak. I knelt beside her and slowly opened the door again. Inside, sitting neatly on the floor, was a small stuffed bear wearing a tiny paper hat and holding a purple crayon—items that hadn’t been there earlier. On the inside of the door, scribbled in that same crayon, were the words: “I will watch her.”

My breath caught, not from fear, but from realization. This wasn’t about anything scary—it was my little girl creating someone to feel safe with during the night, a friend only she could see. I hugged her tightly, promising she would never have to face bedtime alone. That night, we tucked the bear beside her instead of inside the closet, and she fell asleep holding my hand. Some childhood mysteries aren’t meant to frighten us—they remind us how deeply children feel, and how powerful a parent’s presence truly is.