It was Grover. He was the monster at the end of the book. And, for Grover, it was so scary. Every page was witness to Grover's need to keep us from going any further. Wood, brick. He begged us, but we just laughed as we turned the page and saw him under the rubble of the wall he had just built. We read his pleas and watched as he became more and more desperate. If we stayed right there on the next to the last page then we would never make it to the end, and we could live happily ever after with Grover there.
But it was just a book and the huge life lessons of Sesame Street so we turned the page and looked at each other and smiled when Grover realized that his cuddly, lovable self was the only monster there.
Today I am grateful for a book, for a house, a room. For how all these years later moments we try to forget seem to remain so significant.