She isn't afraid

At the beginning of summer, we moved the girls' playroom to the screened-in front porch. The other day, I got Scully to put batteries in the mini keyboard/all-in-one musical instrument. For days on end, I'd been hearing faint classical music but couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Then, Scully pointed out that it was the keyboard on the porch going off due to some kind of "short". I tried to accept that but it didn't feel right. My little daughter, almost 17 months old now, says 'hi' to people and only to people. She'd been saying 'hi' every once in a while throughout the house for the past day or so. Strange, but nothing of great importance.

It got to the point that I couldn't take the classical music anymore playing at all times of the day and night, so I removed the batteries yesterday and then went inside to get a Freezie for the baby.

She grabbed the Freezie, walked straight over to the porch, walked out and said 'hi' in the direction of the keyboards. Then, she held her Freezie up proudly to show someone in the same area.

I told Scully who admitted it was a bit "freaky". The poor guy. Living with three sensitive females must be hard.
Whoever it is, it's her ghost because I get only the faintest impressions.

It reminds me of Gigi who, at 18 months, used to run over to the potting shed in the backyard looking for "Ollie".

Just how dumb am I?

I recently posted elsewhere about my daughter's frequent discussion of "the witch":

"That's the witches' forest." She pointed to the sideyard of a smallish mansion on the way to school.
"Oh, it's very pretty."
"No, it's scary."

She's been talking a lot about witches lately.

The other day:

"I locked the witch in my room."
"You did?"
"Yes. That way, she can't come out and talk to me."

I hadn't known that she was having trouble with witches.

I was rather glib about what I'd assumed -- despite my (gulp) intuition -- to be the flight of her imagination.

Recently, when I thought about it, it occurred to me that my four-year-old hadn't had the same lilt in her voice as she does when she's making believe. So, at dinner time last evening, I casually approached the subject:

"You mentioned before that there's a witch in your room . . ."

"Yes. But she's trapped."

"She is?"

"Yes. She always says, 'Ah, let me out'."

"Oh. I see. Is she a witch or a ghost?"

"She wears a witch costume."

"She comes to play with me. She doesn't share. She hits and throws toys."

"Do you like it when she comes to play?"

"No," she said quite seriously. "She disturbs me."

"She does?"

"Yes. She always sleeps on my bed. In the mornings."

"Does that bother you?"

"No."

"Oh, that's good."

"It just scares me."

"Does she speak to you?"

"Yes, she always calls me."

"Did you first see her before Halloween or after?"

"Before."

"What's her name?"

"It's a 'Sah, sah, sah' [sounding out an 'S'] sound..."

"Like Cecilia...Sarah?"

"It's Sarah!!" She was happy that I'd guessed it.

More today:

"Is she big like Mummy or small like you?" I asked her while we cuddled this morning.

"Small like me."

"Did she ask you not to tell your Mummy and Daddy that she comes to play?"

"Yes," she said, almost embarrassed. "But I said, 'I have to'."

"Wow. You did the right thing." I kissed her cheek. "You tell Mummy and Daddy everything. No secrets."

I had to follow up with the "witch's forest".

"You said that it was the witch's forest yesterday, when we walked to school."

"Yes, Mummy. That's where she lives. Wait, I think I hear her...Oh, no. That's just the baby."

She's told us more about "the witch"--whom she thinks is about two years old--voluntarily and when questioned. Some of it:

"She didn't go out trick-or-treating."

"She didn't?"

"No. She was too late [when she came over]."

Wow. I made such a common mistake, one that I've often warned clients about: I assumed my daughter was 'making up' a friend or a character and she was actually talking about a ghost.

Shame on me!

The Cat

At ballet class last week, all the dancers were asked if they had pets.

"Yes, I have a pet. I have a cat. It's orange."
"What's his name?"
"Darfy."

Gigi has often spoken of Darfy (whose name is her pronunciation of 'Garfield') and, very recently, I came to the conclusion that it is her imaginary friend.

Scully has told me a few stories over the past couple of weeks that Gigi has related to him. I remember vaguely hearing something about Darfy rolling around and around on her bed.

This means, of course, that I forgot who I am and what I actually do for a living until my sister asked a very poignant question:

"Could she be seeing Avery?"

Avery had been my cat since 1996. He died last year, suddenly, in August. He was, of course, orange. Now, I had to know.

"Gigi, do you have a cat?"
"Yes."
"What's his name?"
"Darfy."
"What does he look like?"
"He's orange."
"Oh, where do you see him?"
"He sleeps on my bed. I tickle his tummy."

This goes to show that you're never too old to learn. Or to be humbled, for that matter. I've never believed in 'animal ghosts' before now. I'd always thought that, if you get the impression of an animal, it's either at a distance (and the cat is alive) or it's in the past. She may very well be seeing Avery.

"Do you still see Fred?"
"No, he left my home."
"He did? Where did he go?"
"He had to go to another place."