It was an ordinary Thursday evening when I first encountered something extraordinary. My family was gathered around the dining table, enjoying dinner while a Disney movie played in the background. My 2-year-old son, Jake, stood up from his cozy spot on our makeshift picnic blanket and came over to snuggle in my lap.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” I murmured, running my fingers through his lovely curls. The end of the day is when he’s just tired enough to be extra cuddly, but not so exhausted that he turns into a little monster.
“Mommy,” Jake whispered, “I think the little girl is feeling sad.”
I instinctively placed my hand on my growing belly, where his sister was developing. We had just begun to explain to him that there was a real live baby inside me, someone he would soon play with. My heart melted, thinking he was trying to connect with his future sibling.
“Awww, sweetie! Your little sister isn’t sad at all. She’s happy! She’s so lucky to have a wonderful big brother like you!”
Jake shook his head gently, popping another chip into his mouth. “No, Mommy. Not little sister.”
Okay, I need to clarify this. “Then which little girl is sad?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “The little girl who lives in our house.”
Um, what? My child was only 2 years old! I was pretty sure he didn’t pick this up from any kids’ show. As good as he was at crafting with Play-Doh, I doubted he was imaginative enough to come up with this on his own.
And it only got weirder. Jake pointed behind the chair where my partner, Mark, sat and added, “Right there, with the red eyes.”
I felt a chill run down my spine, and a wave of dread washed over me. Panic set in, and I suddenly entertained the thought of packing up, setting a match to everything, and moving far, far away. Who cares about a dream home? No amount of charm could make living with a red-eyed ghost child acceptable.
What do you do when your little one shares such a shocking statement? I quickly wrapped up our dinner and took Jake to bed, then returned downstairs to search “how to get rid of ghosts” online. I was met with a bizarre mix of advice—some helpful, some downright hilarious, and others that were terrifying.
First off, I had to rule out ordinary explanations. We didn’t live near any dumpsters, so there were no raccoons or rats scratching at our roof at night. Even if there were, I doubted Jake would confuse their noises with a ghost. So, we still had a ghost problem.
Next, the internet suggested “friendly contact” with the spirit. Sure, I’m generally open-minded, but I had to admit I was not keen on chatting with a red-eyed, weeping phantom. That left only one option: the exorcism. But having grown up in the ’80s, I wasn’t eager to step into that territory. I’d seen the movies, had the nightmares, and didn’t need any more traumatic experiences.
After about an hour of searching, I was frustrated and anxious about trying to sleep in a house that might be haunted by a ghost child. I decided to resort to the most desperate measure a parent could take: I turned to social media.
Imagine the desperation behind posting, “Hey everyone, my child just spotted a demon-faced girl in our living room. Any advice?” But I was that desperate, so I hit “Post” and waited.
To my surprise (and relief), responses came pouring in. Apparently, children see spirits all the time! I was inundated with stories from other parents about their kids’ encounters with the paranormal. One mom recounted how her 3-year-old twins held a tea party with a woman named Rose, who happened to be their late great-grandmother’s name. The twins had never been told about her, yet they invited her to sit and served her favorite tea—vanilla rose!
The anecdotes continued to pour in, and I felt comforted knowing I wasn’t the only one facing this peculiar predicament. Inspired, I decided to dig deeper into the history of our century-old home. To my astonishment, I discovered that a little girl had once lived here in the early 1900s.
Not really. That didn’t happen. But over the following months, Jake continued to have “sightings” of the little girl he called “Dreamy Angel,” which, honestly, was just as unsettling.
I’m thrilled to report that after the birth of our daughter, the Dreamy Angel seemed to vanish. This could mean many things, but I’m choosing to interpret it positively—no need to delve into any horror novel scenarios.
In conclusion, no one warned me that children might possess an uncanny ability to perceive spirits. Since it’s a real phenomenon, I feel compelled to share this information with you before your family dinner is disrupted by an apparition. You are not alone in this journey. If you have your own creepy stories, I’d love to hear them!
And on a side note, if you’re in the market for a charming historic home in the Coastal Southeast, ours is currently listed. Just putting it out there.
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