Move over, Sylvia Browne!

I love 8:00pm. I love my kids, and I love my husband and I would dry up and die without them, blah blah blah, but around our house, we impose a pretty strict 8pm bedtime for the kids. After trying various bedtimes, we discovered that the 8pm bedtime seems to leave them less tired and more productive in the morning and that... ok really, if I put them to bed at 8, that leaves me a full two hours to consume alcohol and surf the net.

So generally, you can find me sitting in front of the clock, waiting patiently for 8pm. Some nights, when the fighting and yelling and wrestling are at their peak, I can almost hear harps when that minute hand finally flips over to 12...

The good thing about the strict bedtime is that they are both pretty used to it. You can almost time Colby... 7:57 you will see him start looking for his didgee... then the thumb goes in the mouth... and when I finally say it is bedtime, he runs to his bed, and will give kisses and hugs and then he says lovingly, "Bye. Shut da door."

Wednesday night was an exception. I put him in his bed and he clings to me, and is whimpering.

"Colby! Lay down, its bedtime." I say.

"NO!! Dere's a ghost in my room. It will get me!" he cries.

"Colby, there is no ghost in here!! I promise!! Now lay down!"

"Dere is a ghost!! It right ober dere!! I see it!!" He points to the corner of his room, which contains a dresser and a wooden corner shelf.

"Honey, there are no ghosts in here, I promise. There is no ghost by your dresser. Now give me a kiss and lay down."

"DERE IS A GHOST IN MY ROOM!! DERE IS ONE RIGHT DERE!!!" He points again to the corner of his room, and he is trembling.

His conviction starts to make me feel uneasy... Is there really a ghost lurking around the winter pajamas that are stacked on top of the dresser that I keep meaning to put away?? I mean, this house WAS built in the late 50's... chances are someone may have died here at one time or another. Does my son really see dead people? They say kids are the most susceptible to visions from the Other Side... He has never mentioned ghosts or monsters before tonight, so what else could it be?? Instead of the Gift Of Early Potty Training, he has been passed the even rarer gift of Seeing People From The Other Side.

I envision myself packing his diapers and wipes and flying to the Montel Williams Show, and the Today Show, and the Oprah Show... People will call to him from the audience, "PLEASE COLBY!! Tell me! Can you see my father? He died in 1995... Please??" and Colby will pull his thumb out of his mouth and say, "You daddy fine. He gots wings. He say HI!!... Hey mama, I pooped." It will be great. We will make MILLIONS from his... I mean, we will help so many people. That is the important thing. First I must help him understand his gift and then we will tour the country together, helping people. I will quit my job. I will homeschool.

About that time, Elizabeth comes in the room. I tell her that her brother thinks there is a ghost in his room. She asks him, "Where is the ghost bub??" and he cries and points to the same spot for the 10th time... She laughs, walks over there and picks up a piece of paper... It was a flyer for a Halloween Festival from 2004 that I have not QUITE gotten around to scrapbooking... Colby's first Halloween.

And at the top is a drawing of a ghost.

I put the paper in his junk drawer and he says, "Night night ghost! Now can't get me!! Night night! Shut da door, mama."