Kids Say the Darndest Things….

My dad was a Marine, so when I was young, we would move quite a bit.  I was actually born in Hawaii, lived there a whole six months, and then we moved to Beaufort, South Carolina.  I don’t remember the house we lived in, I was about three when we moved to Chicago.  But my mother tells me about the time when I was a toddler living in that home. My high chair was set up in the kitchen, facing a door to a mudroom.  When my mother would feed me, she’d pull a chair up and sit in front of me.  She said that I would look past her into the darkened room, point, and say, “Look! Man!”   She would quickly turn around and no one was there.  I did it quite often – seeing someone that no one else could see. Which, of course, would frighten her to death.

She told me that she chalked it up to an oddly, wicked sense of humor for a two-year-old.  But now that I’ve read some of these other stories that I’m going to share, I think it might have been something else.  Let me know what you think.

The other night I was playing with my two-year-old son. We were the only ones home because my wife had gone out to dinner with some of her friends.  We watched television, mostly the Disney Channel, and then it was time for him to go to bed.  I picked him up and carried him up the stairs. As we were walking down the hallway towards his bedroom, he pointed behind us toward the guest room, which happens to be completely empty and dark. “Who’s that?” he asked, his eyes focusing on the room.

I turn around, there’s nothing there. “Who?” I replied.

He pointed to the dark bedroom again. “That guy.”

I couldn’t see a thing. But we slept with the night light on that night.

We recently moved into a one-hundred-year-old house. When we moved in, I thought the basement was creepy and the attic was spooky, but I don’t really believe in ghosts. So, I just figured it was an old house.

When we first went to see the house, we brought our three-year-old son with us. We let him check out “his” room, while we looked around the rest of the second floor. Everything was fine until we were pulling away from the house. That’s when my son pointed to the dormer windows in the attic above his room and said, “That’s where the ghost lives.”

We all chuckled about it, but brushed it off to an overactive imagination. But every time we mentioned that house when we were deciding on what to buy, he call it “The Ghost house.”

We ended up buying the house. We moved in and things seemed to be going well.  A couple weeks later I went into my son’s bedroom to wake him up and asked, “Hey, did you sleep well?”

With tired eyes, he looked up at me and shook his head. “No,” he said with a yawn.

“No?” I asked. “Why not? What’s the matter?”

“The boy kept me up,” he replied, rubbing his eyes.

“What boy?” I asked, a chill running up my spine.

Then my three-year-old pointed to the closet in his room that also contained the access door to the attic. “The boy in my room at night.”

 I volunteered to watch some small children at our church while their parents were busy. Our church meets in the community center, so that’s where I was watching the kids. Another volunteer was watching a baby in another room and I had charge of two 2-year-olds—a boy and a girl.

I was familiar with the Community Center, but that afternoon, I had a weird feeling, like someone was standing behind me.  I even looked over my shoulder a couple of times but, of course, no one was there.

The kids and I were sitting on the floor and rolling a ball back and forth to one another. They seemed to be content, but then the little boy asked if we could throw it instead of roll it. I said yes and we stood up. He ran towards me and threw the ball just out of my reach. It went behind me.

I didn’t hear it bounce.

The kids looked at each other and started giggling. I whirled around and saw the ball suspended in midair for just a split second before it fell to the ground. The kids just kept laughing. They started pointing and saying what sounded like “The man! The man!”

I was very glad when their parents arrived and I could go home.

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After reading these, I’m wondering who that man was that lived in the house in Beaufort with us.  Happy Friday!

Like what you read?  Find more stories by Terri Reid here.

Image: supernatualmagazine.com