When it's on, I try to catch NBC's program "The Others". I can't get enough of that type of thing. I'm generally a sucker for anything "Sixth Sense-y" and will undoubtedly be creeped out for a little while after watching it.

Tonight was no exception.

I was only able to watch the last half of "The Others" by splitting my attention between Punkin and putting groceries away. After the last scene, I was able to wrangle Punkin into bed with the help of Hubby before he left to run an errand. I tucked her all in, (and that's an entry all in itself) changed into my own pj's and gathered some things up before heading downstairs. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard extremely loud noises coming from the kitchen. It sounded like someone had turned the radio on full blast and was rolling the dial back and forth past all the stations. It wasn't the radio. I had also turned the TV off, so it wasn't that either. It wasn't any stray airwaves from the cordless phone. It was the Sesame Street Kitchen toy that resides in our kitchen. Like the rational adult that I am I swiftly emptied all the loose pieces from toy and high-tailed it to the garage with three thoughts running in my head at once - 1) oh geez, this better not spook Punkin! (If Punkin heard it, she didn't let me know) 2) What the hell is this thing saying? (it was running through it's repertoire so fast I couldn't understand anything. I briefly thought it was picking up some cordless phone conversation until I realized the voices of Elmo, Big Bird and the Cookie Monster were changing in pitch and running together that I was finally able to identify the words.) 3) Why do all these kid's toys have these damn screw in plates for the battery covers! I just couldn't get that thing apart fast enough.

I couldn't get to a screwdriver in the garage, I'm clad in my knee length "matronly" pj's, and the garage door is open because, well, Hubby just ran out for a second. The toy is still screaming at me in very rapid Sesame Street language as I run back into the house to get the fancy butter knife that has a little point on the tip. (I think it's really meant to be used when serving butter for some fancy dinner, but it works very well on the Phillips head screws.)

I finally get the battery cover off, pop out the three AA batteries and accidentally drop the whole she-bang on the cement floor. Anything that came apart can be put back together with ease, and nothing is really broken, however, I am rethinking having that thing in the house.

Now before you think I'm entirely off my rocker, consider this. About a year or so ago, I awoke at 2:30am to the little telephone portion of the same toy ringing. It would ring three times and then stop. Almost exactly 20 minutes later, it would do it again. This went on for a while before I screwed up the courage to go downstairs and do something about it.

Tip-toeing downstairs at 2:30am is spooky enough, let alone investigating why a child's toy is ringing. Don't ghosties try to make contact through telephones in the movies? So what if it's a toy phone? Maybe we weren't answering the real phone and they didn't want to leave a message at the beep. Again, why am I the only one disturbed by the noise? No one else appears to be hearing it. The ringing started again and despite the small glow of several nightlights, I jumped and flipped on the very bright kitchen light as quickly as I could. The little phone wasn't even in its little holder! The button that activates the ringing wasn't stuck, either. After a quick check around the room, I discovered the little phone, and replaced it. That was the end of that. I scampered back up to bed and hoped that I could get back to sleep right away. My imagination does not need to be jump started at 2:30am!

Oh my! The phone just rang as I'm typing this and nearly sent me out of my chair…

Ok, so I believe in ghosts. I've had quite a few experiences over the years to help me believe. While I've never really seen a ghost, I feel a small measure of comfort in the fact that we may not be alone. Of course, the same thought gives me the willies, too. Maybe I'm nuts, but what if I'm not?

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