“Wahahaha,” I exclaimed as Daddy hit his head on the wall. He laid on the floor for a brief moment and looked at me with a big smile on his face. Then he got up and rammed his head against the wall again, this time screaming, “Boing!”
“Wahahaha,” I chuckled harder.
While trying to catch my breath, Mommy joined the circus. Daddy threw a big red yoga ball at her. Even though the ball missed her, she fell on the floor on all fours. Does Daddy know how to airbend? “Wahahahahha,” I laughed harder this time as she rolled around, my vision blurry as tears formed in my eyes.
Why does seeing other people get hurt make me laugh hysterically?
But the more important question is, why are the parents addicted to hurting themselves? This is insane! I wonder if there is a limit to what they would do…
Izzy was crying in the middle of the night – I know, that sounds normal for a 9-month-old. But it was an “I’m scared” type of cry. I ran into her room. Her high pitch whimpers couldn’t be soothed with her favorite blanket, milk, or pacifier. What is wrong? …
It must be – the new doll that she got is possessed!
I was afraid of dolls growing up, so I never got Izzy one. Since we found that lashes help her sleep [read post here], I wanted to give Izzy a toy with lashes, blinking eyes, and long soft hair – the only toy I could think of is a doll. It would be an opportunity to eliminate the fear once and for all, as I comforted myself. Surprisingly, it took me a while to find the right one because dolls these days don’t have the lashes and rolling eyes anymore (which allows them to blink). Maybe there’s a reason – they’re evil! Finally, I found a harmless looking doll at Walmart that had the lashes but no hair – good enough.
I just bought this doll yesterday; she is still in the living room. Izzy was attracted to her immediately because the eyelids “blink” when she plays with the lashes – we named the doll Judy. It must have sneaked into the room, wanting revenge because Izzy was stabbing her eyes. Perhaps it ran away when Izzy woke up. I immediately closed the bedroom door and snuggled closely under the covers of the guest bed with Izzy. I want to face my fears; I should go out and prove that this is all my imagination. Scenarios raced through my mind – what if Judy is waiting for me?
She can be standing outside the door, back towards me, and then slowly turn her head 180 degrees with her innocent smile.
Or she can be down the dark hallway, in the shadows holding a sharp object, then she’ll sprint full speed in attack mode.
Izzy finally stopped crying and started dozing off in my arms. Other than the ocean wave noise coming out of our sound machine, it is pretty quiet. Wait, did I just hear a creak? Our new floorboards creak with every step. I started sweating; she is coming for us. Usually, when I needed help, I’ll call for DT sleeping in the other room, but I was afraid that Judy would harm him instead, so I kept quiet this time.
I wonder if she can talk, I can almost hear the hysterical laughter echoing through the walls. I looked towards the door, envisioning that it’ll slowly start opening. The small night light in the room casts a shadow over the furniture.
My eyes strained in the dark to see if there are any movements, perhaps she’s in here already.
After about an hour (or two?), I dozed off, thinking I should’ve gotten a stuffed toy and crazy glued the lashes on it instead.
The first thing in the morning was to return the doll to Walmart. That evening, I was on the lookout to make sure Judy didn’t find her way back – luckily she didn’t. After scouring the internet for hours, I found a stuffed cow with lashes, on Amazon – no reviews, and it was $30, but it looks harmless – let’s give it a shot.
