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Ghosts were the least of our problems

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Ghosts are experts in gas lamps. You will soon begin to question your eyes and ears.

When the bedroom door naturally squeaked during feeding at 3 am, it turned out that the door latch did not work like a baby. But when I was feeding my baby from the bottle, I waved my finger and felt someone coming into the room. Suddenly, the TV went off, saying, “If you don’t breastfeed, at least you can’t pay attention to her.”

I dispelled it as bad wiring combined with lack of sleep. But a few months later, the “bad wiring” became more daring. I decided to put the baby to sleep a little earlier that night and turn off the lights when I entered the room. But when I laid her down, the lights turned on again. Confused, I walked to the dimming switch and found the knob turned to the “on” position. It was strange. I turned it off, but as soon as her back touched the mattress, the light turned on again.

Instead of being scared, I got angry. The judgment of this ghost’s mother was beyond the line. She was discussing with me and said it was too early to go to bed. Didn’t you understand? Well, I was a mother for 6 months. I knew it very well. And I got together and announced in the room. “This baby sleeps. Right now.”

When the words escaped from my lips, we were thrown into the darkness.

I screamed, went down the stairs with my baby, and bolted it into the waiting arm of my partner who heard the noise. She calmed my fragile nerves, checked the room, calmed down, and came back to explain that I was out of my head. Ghosts are not real.

She was right. It was probably a slippery knob. A blown fuse. By chance. I was foolish to doubt her.

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