My mama says there isn't any mean-eyed monster with long slimy hair and pointy claws going scritchy-scratch outside my window"". . . or a fiend in the lower bunk or a zombie clonking up the stairs or a goblin in the drawer. . . but even Mama has been wrong about several small matters (the whereabouts of the crayons, the likelihood of rain) which Nick remembers after each reassurance. However, when ""mama says that a creature isn't reaching out his hand to pinch or squinch or push or squish me"" she's right, for the ""creature"" turns out to be Mama in a blanket. Viorst's monsters are no more individualized or her ending more therapeutic than those in any number of picture book creature features, but Chorao's ingenious blend of domestic reality and wild imagination do them more than justice.