Let's Tell Spooky Stories

Me: (Thinking to myself at the store.) Wow, that jacket is soooo nice! 58 bucks? Husband would kick my ass. But maybe I should get it anyways, I could lie and say I used the money for groceries.

Son: (Yelling out of nowhere) MOM! The DEVIL is right in front of you!

Me: (Jaw dropping)

I was officially freaked out by my own child. We have never talked about Beelzebub in our house as we are much more of a "God is love" kind of household than a fire and brimstone one. Though I will admit there was that one time I shrieked, "God knows when you lie to mommy!" when son was pretending he hadn't urinated into the cold air return vent. But ever since son was born he has had this odd knack for guessing what's on my mind. I'll be thinking about him and he'll come up and ask if I called his name out loud. Actually, I've tested this and it works nearly every time. And he often goes for the phone before it rings, or announces that someone is at the door before they knock.

Because I have a hearing loss husband has been pretty quick to dismiss this all as hooey, saying the phone did ring but didn't hear it. Until recently, when I was tapering off a new
medication and having those nasty withdrawal nightmares. Every time I would whimper quietly, or toss and turn son would wake up and walk into our room. Then he would climb into bed with me and I would settle down. I wasn't loud, he just seemed to know and husband swears that no matter how much he tried to comfort me it was only when son came into the bed that I settled down.

I think the strangest experience, before our meeting with Satan, was when son was around 2 or 3. Whenever he was sick we would bring him into bed with us so we could keep watch on his fevers. Well, he had been running a temperature that night and so he slept in our bed. The next morning he woke up and started running around the house saying, "Where is he? Where is the little boy?". I tried to explain that he had a dream about a little boy but he was convinced that he had been talking to a small guy with curly brown hair. Son claimed that the boy had stood by our bed and wanted to climb in. Son slept in our bed later that same night and the next morning I asked him if the little boy came again. Son said, "Yes, he wanted to climb into the bed again but you wouldn't let him. You told him he had to go home because this was our house now, not his and so he left."

Freaky man. Has your child ever given you the ghostly heeby jeebies?


mark said...

Wow. Just Wow. So what did Satan Look like?

Lotta said...

He said he had a long beard and a pitchfork. But that sounds more like Neptune from The Little Mermaid to me.

elle said...

Ooh, that's freaky cool! Was the devil holding a pair of matching shoes or some nice accessories to go with the jacket by chance? We are goin gto need to hear more super-boy stories in the future please!

colorbox said...

Did he catch a glimpse of Halloween merchandise? I got spooked by a mummy today as I rounded the store isle..tis the season. Or maybe he was introducing you to his new imaginary friend "satan".
My sister had an imaginary Duck friend named "Ducky" for a year...I would die of laughter if a child of mine decided to chum around with "Satan". How totally badass would THAT be??

I would suspect though, that he maybe he picked up on your inner dialog....and it was just his way of telling you that "god knows when you lie" ?

Lotta said...

Elle - Snort!

Colorbox - Someone had to have told him. I'll have to drill Grandma.

judi said...

I would have crapped my pants. I don't like the Debil.

I have "feelings" when someone is sick too. I'll keep having thoughts about them all day...... I even heard my Mom calling me one night, which I thought was a dream...... turns out, she had a heart attack within a day or so.

Then, like I'll have a dream of a famous person..... once it was Rick James attacking me ....... then he died. Jeff Smith, the frugal gormet, dreamt of him........ DEAD. I could go on and on.

Oh, don't worry Lotta...... I've never dreamt of you.

kimberly sherrod said...

I have goosebumps! Holy Crap! I guess you didn't buy the jacket?

Petra said...

Jeez... what a cool kid to have around! I know your kids are entertaining on a daily basis, but that's way cool!

Katrina said...

Weird....although my brother and I heard footsteps one night in our house, the house that used to be a funeral home. Yeah...creepy.

Super B's Mom said...

Ok...THAT gives me the heebs just reading about it!

Super B has creeped me out once when he was two. He told me he dreamed of my grandmother and described something that she did - something only I knew. Very creepy.

Gretchen said...

Frequently, I'll be calling mom and she'll pick it up before it rings as she's getting ready to call me.

I think it's something neat you and your boy have - encourage it!

Mitzi Green said...

holy freaking crap, that's weird. sadly, my own child is not clarevoyant. he can't even tell when he's pissing me off.

~Diet Goddess~ said...

Oh I love, love, love stuff like this! Please tell me more stories!!!

I submit my own semi-freaky story for your approval: When I was pregnant with my second child, my sonogram gave a predicted due date of December 15. Due to the second pregnancy being the polar opposite of my first (hello morning sickness...hello all sorts of complications, eww), I predicted that I would have a girl this time.

My child, Alex, insisted from the beginning that I would have the baby on December 1st and it would be a boy. I asked him how he knew that it would be a boy and he said that the baby told him. It said to him, "I'm a boy, I'm a boy, I'm a boy!" Uh, ok son.

So on December 1st, I went to my doctor's appointment at 3:45 p.m. and was told that there was no way I would have that baby that day. Go home, come back next week and then we'll talk induction or sumthin. Ugh.

My husband was working a 6pm - 6 am night shift, so he left for work that evening. Alex (still insisting the baby would come Dec 1!)and I went to my Mom and Dad's house for dinner.

About 6:50p, my water broke. And my youngest son, Nicholas, was born at 11:07p. Just like Alex predicted!

I told hubby to take the child to buy lottery tickets the next day. Hubby let him choose 6 different sets of numbers. He got every single number correct - except they were each on a different line. I told hubby he needed to 'splain the rules of gambling a little bit better! LOL

Lotta said...

Oooh I love all your stories!

Judy - I did that today.

Anonymous said...

My sister (who prefers to communicate through e-mail, go figure) is a devoted Mom-o-Matic reader, and after she read today's blog, she sent me an e-mail telling me to jump in with my little "situation".

*cue oh-ee-oh music*

My son sees dead people.

Okay, I ripped the terminology off from the "Sixth Sense", but it's still true.

And he's not alone, in the seeing ghosts part. It's a family thing. I've been told it's a "gift", but I'd prefer to be tall and thin, or at least have the bod that I did when I was 20 and didn't appreciate. When I say that, I'm told "you don't get to choose your gift."

That figures.


I believe that children don't question as adults do - they see Disney cartoons and "believe" all the wonderful things they see. As we age, we question everything. So, we "lose" the ability to "see" things.

We've always had "spirits" hanging around. When I was a kid, I thought they were attached to the house in which we lived. But we moved, and the majority appear to have happily relocated. We don't know all of them. Some of easily recognizable, some are complete strangers. Not all of them appear "lost" at all; it appears to be a choice for them.

This is not a "dark and stormy night" kind of thing. "They" have absolutely no problems with broad daylight. They're not "scary" or threatening. Most seem a bit surprised, as if they're surprised that we can see them.

And there's no "controlling" them, either. We don't call, we don't summon. It's kind of like sharing space with entities that come and go as they please.

In case anyone actually "listens", I laid down some rules: no flying furniture. No freaking the kids out. No spinning heads. Any of that, and I'll call in a fleet of Jesuits.

Back to my son.

My father died when I was pregnant with my son. Both my sister and I had been married for several years and pregnant with out firstborns, both sons. And then, Dad died suddenly. Our father was a career police officer. (He was retired.)

Long story short, it was awful. Our mother was devastated, we were all knocked flat.

My mother and I saw him occasionally, and so did neighbors.

But the REAL business started when a little over two years after Dad died, my son was chirping happily as I tied his shoes.

"Who are you talking to?" I asked.

My son answered with the nickname I planned for him to call my father, to differentiate him from my father-in-law.

Oh. Okay...

I continued to tie my son's shoes. "And where is he?"

"Out in the hall." My son paused. "Can't you see him?"

I said I couldn't, at least at that moment, and asked what he was wearing.

"His policeman's uniform."

Hmmm. I don't know why I asked the following question, but I did. "Is he alone?"

"Uh uh," my son replied. "He's with two sad policemans."

"Why are they sad?"

"Because they didn't want to go. But [my father] said they could stay with him, they'd be okay with him."

A young police officer had been murdered in the line of duty a few months before. Two years before that, another young police officer, this one married, with a young child and a pregnant wife, had also been murdered.


So, we "picked up" two "houseguests". My son called them by name, especially the younger one, whom he called "Officer [First Name]."

Evidently, they are very chatty. My son related things he couldn't have known, things I didn't know, such as the problems going on with those the dead officer left behind.

When my son was five, he asked me one day, "Was [my father] shot?"

No, I replied, my father had become very sick, very fast, and the doctors couldn't make him better. So he died, and went to Heaven. (I left out the part about how Dad appears to continue to like to travel.)

"But Officer [First Name] was shot, right?"

I confirmed he had been.

"Did it hurt?"

No, I said, it happened very fast, so it probably didn't hurt. The actual facts of the story are different, but it's not the kind of thing one shares with a five year old.

"Well," said my son with certainty, "Officer [First Name] was very scared until [my father] came and got him!"

What could I say to that? So I just said that my father was like that, that he was especially protective of young police officers, and he wouldn't have wanted Officer [First Name] to be alone and afraid, so he went and got him right away.

Last year, two boys from Missouri were rescued. One, Shawn Hornbeck, had been in captivity for several years. There was a lot of talk about it.

My son earnestly confided, "you know, Officer [First Name] told me NEVER to talk to strangers, and that if someone grabs me, I should scream and yell and kick and make lots of noise because bad people like that don't like attention."

Good advice.

He continued, "and he told me never ever to touch a gun, even a policeman's gun, no guns! Except play guns and water guns, they're okay. Do you think he said that because he got shot by a gun?"

Probably, but it's good all-around advice.

When he was in kindergarten, the mothers took turns reading to the kids during their library time.

When it was my turn, I read a Dr. Seuss story about not being afraid of the future, that everyone makes mistakes. The kids and I then discussed things we were afraid of.

The kids all said different things, like spiders and the dark, when my son, a fan of the show "Danny Phantom" said, "I'm afraid of ghosts!" He then paused and smiled at me. "Except for [his nickname for my late father] and his friends, because THAT'S different!"

This is not the kind of thing you want to explain to your kid's school class or to his teacher, so I just smiled and said, "Moving on..."

So, those are some of my stories. My son is now 6-1/2, and he's realizing that "not everyone" can "see" the things we can. He doesn't like to be confronted with it. He still mentions the "friends" in the house, and we have our apparently permanent "houseguests", and some that come and go, and others that seem to have felt some need to "pass by".

Lotta said...

Anon - That's awesome! I met my birth mother a few years back and learned that I come from a long line of psychics and I hear dead people. It's so nice that you nurture that in your child rather than make him fearful!

Oh, The Joys said...

My husband's father died when K was 16. When The Mayor was 2 he used to talk to (and about) K's dad, calling him by name and everything. We don't talk about him much so it was very spooky. Now, Rooster is two and doing the same thing, though The Mayor has long since stopped. Freaky.