Fear and Loathing In The Diaper Pail

OK. It’s probably not. We live in an architecturally uninteresting, ’60s-era, three-bedroom ranch smack in the middle of Midwestern suburbia. Ghosts have other stuff to do than bother with us. But I think the Halloween season must be getting to Liam. He has recently been giving us more hassle than usual when its time for bed.

Seriously, this kid takes, like, 4 pee breaks before we threaten to shut his bedroom door on him. Then he’ll try to climb into bed with us two or three times a night. Adam carries him back to bed while he screams past Lucas’ room, “NOOOO! I NO GO BED!!! I SLEEP WITH MOMMEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” And in the last week or so he’s mentioned that he’s afraid of the dark.

I recognize that this is a common thing amongst the 3-year-old set. But when I ask him why he’s afraid of the dark, he won’t say. So I tell him there’s nothing to be afraid of, that it’s the same house and room that’s there in the daytime, that Daddy and I are just down the hall, that he’s safe in his nice, warm, soft, cozy bed with his bear and his Crack. That he has TWO nightlights. Eventually he just resigns himself to sleeping in the horrible shadows with the nightmarish shapes of God-only-knows-what looming over him.

When I came to pick him up from preschool today, he told me he wasn’t going home. I said, “Why aren’t we going home?” and he said, “It’s dark. And spooky.” Now, I’m not in love with the natural lighting situation in our house either, but it is NOT dark and spooky, especially at 11:30 in the morning. Dark and spooky. Somebody’s been laying some Halloween shit on this kid and when I find out who, I’m going to call them on the phone whenever Liam gets up in the night. Because if WE have to be up, THIS fool has to be up.