Momnesia

Emmie's scared of the dark, and she can't quite reach the light switch panels in the house. One evening, as she was going to use the bathroom, I heard her feet pounding back into my bedroom.

"Mama!" she gasped, holding her arms up for me to hold her.

"What is it, honey? I thought you went to the bathroom?"

"I did. But ders awready somebody in der."

"Who?"

"Da ghost!"

And the little girl inside me shivered with fear. What? I froze. Oh, wait. I don't believe in ghosts... Do I?

No. Yes. No... No. Be reasonable.

"Honey, show me the ghost."

"I can't. It's abbisible."

"Honey, where's the ghost?"

"Da ghost dats going pee-pee."

We walk (slowly) to the bathroom, everything shrouded in darkness. I hear it: the tinkling of water. And for a heart-stopping moment, I see a shadowy form shimmering in the doorway.

Emmie looks at me with wide, frightened eyes, and I'm strengthened by a mother's bravado. I flick on the light. As expected, there's nothing there, and it only takes me a second to locate the source of the noise.

"Look, honey. There's no ghost." I left the back of the toilet tank and show her the water trickling steadily. I should probably fix that.

Her eyebrows go up, her mouth open in a wide grin. "OHHhhh! I thought it was a GHOST!" she laughs and shrugs. "Iss just wadder."

And she's never mentioned the ghost again.


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