shaking all over
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
As I write this, I'm just overcoming my first-ever head-to-toe case of the willies.
I am literally covered in goosebumps, and it's all Kenny's fault.
Recently Kenny has refused my help in falling asleep. Last night he even said, "I hate Daddy" which is always nice. Tonight once again Mari had to put him to bed. As we chatted about our plans for the next day, there was some small vocal sound from outside the living room. Small vocal sounds are the minimum around a two year old, so Mari said, "Kenny?"
But I said, "I .. don't think so." It just sounded wrong, not like a voice in our presence but like the distant sounds of a radio broadcast. I carefully opened the door to the hallway and quietly stepped to the door to Kenny's room. There was no sound at all, and I thought I could make him out lying awkwardly on his bed as usual.
I turned back to the living room door and-
there he was, sitting with his back to the closet and glowering at me like some child from The Shining.
My entire body went into reflexive mode. My stance changed, I was covered in goosebumps, and I got that electric feeling from adrenaline. I may have exclaimed something, at that point.
Kenny got up and started grumbling, and now Mari's trying to get him to sleep in the living room.