10 Things That Scared the Crap Out of Me Cleaning My Daughter's Room
The chamber of horrors all neatly put away
Jef With One F
Some folks like to go to haunted houses or scary movies to get a thrill. Me? I've realized that all I need to get pants-browningly terrified is to clean my four-year-old daughter's room.
That's what I did the past weekend because I have become both that old and that boring. Working two jobs with a wife in nursing school means that literally sometimes you don't straighten up the house until the mess has gained sentience and tried to block off your escape. So I set aside three hours and dug through the multi-colored everything.
Everything I ran across gave me nightmares.
The Tell-Tale Heart: She got a doctor's kit for her birthday and she just loves it. One of the toys it features is a stethoscope which plays a heartbeat when you press the button... little did I know that it was being constantly depressed under a book, so I spent at least 20 minutes wandering up and down the room trying to locate this spectral pulsing that as far as I knew only I could hear.
Creepy Balloons: The kid always asks for balloons. They fascinate her. The problem is that they hang at head height when connected to those clips that they attach to the bottom of the string and silently float around the room on the currents from the air conditioning stalking you. You're picking stuff up, and suddenly a half-deflated vision of Spider-Man comes creeping up out of the corner of your eye.
The Hand Prints: My daughter isn't allowed to keep paint or markers in her room lest she frescoe while we sleep. There is literally nothing in there that should be able to transfer pigment. Yet, when I pulled her bed back to vacuum the wall was covered with tiny little Blair Witch Project handprints. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. What the actual hell? I'm scared to wave a black light over them in case a spectral message asks me to play with it forever.
The Singing Toy Everyone has his personal horror movie hell. For me, it's possessed toys. Nothing says unnerving like the light-hearted sound of play coming at you when you're alone in the house. Most modern kids' toys not only have some sort of happy, vaguely off-tone singing feature, but they have nice, big, easily to accidentally press buttons that suddenly and inexplicably mean something you can't see is screaming at you in Spanish from underneath a pile of toys you just shifted.
The Blob: You know what's always fun? Finding a forgotten sippy cup or food container. You have to open it, of course. Those things aren't cheap. However, usually when you do you are assaulted by some Lovecraftian entity that no longer resembles the evolution of entities from our reality. It's like opening the Ark of the Covenant if God fancied Yo Gabba Gabba motifs in his storage choices.
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