Last night, I heard the pad of soft feet as Owen crept to Paul's side of the bed.
"Daddy," he whispered.
"What's going on, Buddy?" Paul asked, his voice still hazy from sleep. It was three in the morning.
"Daddy, um, there's jellyfish in my bed. You need to get the flashlight and then let me go into your bed because there are jellyfish in my bed."
Paul answered, with no hesitation whatsoever, "That's not going to happen. Let's go upstairs and check out those jellyfish."
Paul carried Owen (who was, in turn, carrying Big Teddy) back upstairs. He inspected the bed. No jellyfish. He tucked Owen back in. Gave him a kiss. Returned to bed.
Everybody slept soundly till morning.
A welcoming bed, free from jellyfish and fear.
All thanks to the power of Daddy.