Ghost Toes

The boy’s bedroom is haunted. I’m not sure what kind of a-hole ghost gets his translucent jollies off scaring a 4 year old and a 1 year old, but this apparition has been working overtime lately.

At minimum once a night, but usually more like a thousand times a night, Luca or Elijah will call out in terror and begin hysterically crying. By the time Diana or I race over the ghost has already left, leaving nothing but ectoplasm (pee) in his wake.

The other night, Luca woke up screaming every hour on the hour. I’d race in, shout, “Got ya, Casper!” (with no luck) and lift Luca out of his crib. We’d then sit in the rocking chair for a few minutes trying to find a comfortable position. He’d squirm, adjust and flop around on my lap until I said, “Would you like to go back into your crib?”

“Okayyyyyy.”

This went on hourly until 4am when I realized Luca had been dressed by a certain wife in footy pajamas.

No no no no no. Has the woman learned nothing about our baby? He’s a weirdo. If he doesn’t have everything completely right in his crib there will be no sleeping. Blanket must be over head. Stuffed animals must be flanking his body. Light must not creep into room. And FEET MUST BE COVERED. Come on. She’s better than that.

When I grouchily jostled Diana for a 4am explanation, she said that Luca’s myriad skin ailments now include sheets of skin peeling off his big toes. I just threw up writing that.

Our pediatrician recommended a toe ointment to combat the sheeting. So Diana attempted to contain the ointment by putting him in footy pajamas.

I suggested in the most 4am grouchiest way possible that I would prefer to keep his toes in a jar over putting him in footy pajamas ever again.

Later that day my friend Tom told me that your feet temperature is the biggest indicator of your sleep success. I grouchily replied, “Shut it, Cliff Clavin.”

So Luca is now back to sleeping in his bare feet and the ghosts are attacking only once a night.