There were no toys under the bed–that wasn’t why he liked it. Why he liked it was that there wasn’t anything under the bed–no chickens, no Joey, no Eloise, no sheep, no “no”s. He could...

You can only shove shit under your bed for so long before it starts moving around and wanting to get out. You can only cope for so long before everything breaks.

If I had a wish, I would turn you to a pair of shoes to keep you under my feet and you get an opportunity to be under the bed too.