My Daughter Learned to Count
My daughter woke me around 11:50 last night. My wife and I had picked her up from her friend Sally’s birthday party, brought her home, and put her to bed. My wife went into the bedroom to read while I fell asleep watching the Braves game.
“Daddy,” she whispered, tugging my shirt sleeve. “Guess how old I’m going to be next month.”
“I don’t know, beauty,” I said as I slipped on my glasses. “How old?”
She smiled and held up four fingers.
It is 7:30 now. My wife and I have been up with her for almost 8 hours. She still refuses to tell us where she got them.
* * *
I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, “Daddy check for monsters under my bed.” I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, “Daddy there’s somebody on my bed.”
* * *
I heard my mom calling me into the kitchen. As I was heading down the stairs I heard a whisper from the closet saying “Don’t go down there honey, I heard it too.”
He Stood Against My Window
I don’t know why I looked up, but when I did I saw him there. He stood against my window. His forehead rested against the glass, and his eyes were still and light and he smiled a lipstick-red, cartoonish grin. And he just stood there in the window. My wife was upstairs sleeping, my son was in his crib and I couldn’t move. I froze and watched him looking at me through the glass.
Oh, please, no. His smile never moved but he put a hand up and slid it down the glass watching me. With matted hair and yellow skin and face through the window.
I couldn’t do anything. I just stood there, frozen, feet still in the bushes I was pruning, looking into my home. He stood against my window.
* * *
Don’t be scared of the monsters, just look for them. Look to your left, to your right, under your bed, behind your dresser, in your closet but never look up, she hates being seen.