Timmy sat cross-legged on his bed, clutching his stuffed bunny, Mr. Fluff, tightly. His eyes flitted nervously toward the bathroom door, which stood ajar, ominously dark despite the daylight.
"I don't want to go in there, Mr. Fluff," he whispered, his voice barely above a tremble. Mr. Fluff looked back with his button eyes, ever the silent companion.
Timmy peeked around the corner, his imagination running wild. In his mind, the toilet was a gaping maw, ready to swallow him whole. He could almost hear it growling softly, waiting for him to approach.
"What if it eats me?" he said aloud, his small voice echoing in the quiet house. "Don't be silly," he imagined Mr. Fluff replying, but the fear remained.
Timmy's mother appeared, her presence comforting and calm. "Why don't we go see what the toilet monster is up to?" she suggested, kneeling beside him. Timmy hesitated, but her reassuring smile bolstered his courage.
"I'll be right here with you, and so will Mr. Fluff," she added, holding his hand gently.
Timmy stepped inside, his heart pounding like a drum. He squeezed Mr. Fluff tightly and took a deep breath. His mother knelt beside him, pointing toward the toilet.
"Look, it's not a monster," she said softly. Timmy nodded slowly, taking another cautious step forward.
Timmy reached out, touching the cool, smooth surface of the toilet. It was just porcelain, not teeth or claws.
"It's not scary at all," he exclaimed, eyes wide with realization. His mother laughed softly, ruffling his hair.
Timmy sat proudly on the toilet, Mr. Fluff perched beside him. The fear that had once gripped him was gone, replaced by the thrill of victory over his imagination.
"See, Mr. Fluff? It's just a friendly place," he said, smiling.
Timmy's mother watched from the doorway, her heart swelling with pride as her little boy embraced a new-found bravery.
