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Published April 16, 2009
Bekka has developed a new nighttime fear. Closets. Apparently some dumb dumb parent let her and her friends watch Poltergeist, and for three weeks now Bekka has a nightly cry session brought on by an intense fear of being sucked into the closet. I tried explaining that you can't get sucked into a portal to the dead if you don't believe such a thing exists. She said she did, and quickly ran for my bed (cause I guess if a portal exists it can't suck her through my closet?). I personally don't believe in ghosts, but I understand that kids are kind of dumb about this stuff and so I abandoned the angle of eradicating her fear with logic. She's been crowding me out of my own bed with her need to sleep at an angle, leaving me huddled, sleepless and frustrated in a tiny corner at the top of the bed. So last night I had to end the craziness. What I decided to do was as genius as it was uncomfortable. I slept in her tiny closet. It was an awkward night. When compared to sleeping on a small plot of bed, sleeping in a child's closet is like being stuck in a men's prison. I was so tired that at a certain point in the night I cried softly, promoted by the thought of a parallel universe opening up and actually rescuing me from this. And in the morning, after I dug a Barbie shoe out of my thigh, I emerged, unharmed, proving to Bekka that there was nothing to be scared of. She seemed convinced and so we woke up Cody and all went downstairs. I tried to make breakfast, but was so tired I put eggs in the toaster and poured OJ on their cereal, which they ate. I suppose you can't be choosy if you can't make food for yourself. After I literally held my eyes open to drive the kids to their respective places of learning, I found the first shady parking spot I could muster the energy to drive to and had myself a nice three hour car nap. It was delightful.
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