I think my house might be haunted.
We don’t get blankets yanked off in the middle of the night. All the photos don’t suddenly come crashing down off the walls. I don’t think either of us has been possessed and spun our heads all the way around. The chandelier doesn’t rattle inexplicably in the middle of the night.
We don’t even have a chandelier.
No, our ghost sneaks in and undoes the things I ask my son to do.
Me: “T, I told you to put the dirty clothes in the basket. Not next to it.”
T: “I did! I put them right in the basket. Someone took them out.
Me: “I already asked you once to put your dinner dishes in the sink.”
T: “I did! Someone came and put them back on the table.”
Me: “Time for bed. Grab Buddy.”
T: “I can’t find her anywhere. I looked everywhere. She’s not here.” [starts crying]
Me: “Look at that. She was on the couch. I swear you are the worst look-er ever.”
T: “I looked there! She wasn’t there when I looked.”
So, really, this ghost is just kind of a nuisance.