Being in the room was like being in a box that slowly sucked the life out of its victims. The walls and floor were the same shade as snow that had been dirtied by too many shoes and gravel. There were no windows, and the only source of light came from the fluorescent overhead lamps. About six people were sitting on the plastic blue chairs that were propped up against the wall, but one little person stood out. She couldn’t have been older than two years and was swinging her feet back and forth under her chair. She hated it when her parents took her here. She had been here a few times before, to the oncology waiting room in St. Mary’s hospital, and it always ended with tears of boredom.

       The toddler tried to occupy herself by touching the magazines on the table. They were glossy and smooth on the cover, but the edges were frayed. Each magazine had pictures of strangers in dark glasses and big bold letters that she couldn’t read yet. Bored, she picked up the nearest magazine and smashed it against the wall. It dropped, opening like a butterfly in flight. The toddler gurgled and laughed at her success, but was interrupted by the strong arms of her mother, picking her up and and showing her that punishing, stern face. 

     The poor toddler was then brought to her father’s lap, as she always was whenever she was bad, and and sat there jailed behind his iron arms. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to be here, she was hungry, and bored, and tired, and absolutely sick of all these frowning faces. The toddler reached up for her father's glasses, but her chubby little fingers were swatted away like ten intrusive flies.

       What would she be doing at home right now? Well, she was tired, so that meant bed, but bed meant story. What story would she be listening to? Monster Dad, the toddler thought. Monster Dad was her favorite book; in fact, she knew the words by heart. She loved the little monster family in the book, the clumsy boy, the nice mother, and the stern, yet kind-hearted monster dad. What if she could get her parents to read her Monster Dad? They were happy when they read her stories; maybe she could get them to crack a smile and take her home.

       The toddler turned to face her father's head and pointed at his cheek. “Monster dad!” she begged softly. No reaction. The toddler tried again, this time a little louder. “Monster dad!” she pleaded. Her father turned his face to her and shook his head.

       This she would not tolerate. She had sat in this room for what seemed like centuries, without food, without toys, and she had been good, very good! All she wanted was a simple story. Now she was angrier. “Monster Dad!” she demanded, digging her pointer finger into her father's cheek. “Monster Dad! Monster Dad!” she shouted her commands like a captain on a ship.

       Then the unexpected happened. The toddler heard a soft cry. Was it a cry? Distracted from her mission, she turned around to stare at a thin, bleached blond woman with brown roots and a gray pallor. No, this woman wasn’t crying, she was laughing. Her eyes were contorted, and her nose was wrinkled, but her mouth clearly twisted upward. The laughter spread like an infectious disease amongst the waiting people. What a silly thing! they thought. A baby calling her father a monster!

       Soon the toddler was bobbing up and down, because her father, too, was laughing. Her cheeks began to fill with blood and her head was hot with embarrassment. She decided to ignore the crazy adults and continue toward her goal. “Monster Dad!” she implored her father. “Monster Dad!” This only made them laugh harder.

       In shame, she buried her face into her father's boulder-like chest, hiding from the noise. Why were they laughing at her? What had she done? In truth, they weren’t laughing at her because she was funny, but because they needed to laugh. They hadn’t laughed in so long; instead, they wasted away alongside their dying loved ones. The toddler was too young to understand that it was healthy that they were laughing, and she would never grow out of her shame when people laughed at her, but at that moment it didn’t matter, because she had just given the waiting people the best medicine in the world.