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Distressed Housewife / April 26, 2012

I’ve decided that our three year old makes me feel like we’re in ‘Van Helden’ (Kate Beckinsale eat your heart out) because, like the vampires in that film, he seems completely normal by day; he’s attractive, charming and well mannered and socialises successfully with other people.

He eats what everyone else eats, laughs, plays and is affectionate and funny.  Daylight does not seem to bother him.  He is not particularly pale and his teeth are regular sized.  He has a reflection and does not seem to demonstrate any sort of unquenchable thirst for blood.  There is nothing suspicious in his manner or appearance…

…And then it turns six o’clock and everything changes.  The clouds eclipse the sun (on the rare occasions we have any).  There is a strange silence that descends upon everything, and then, before our eyes, our delightful preschooler transforms from Jekyll into Hyde.  Strange howls emit from his jaws, he wails and moans, he repeats the same chants incessantly (‘Are you happy or are you sad? Are you happy or are you sad? Are you happy or are you sad?  I want to be a big boy!  I want to be a big boy!  I want to be a big boy!) until you feel you will go insane if another word escapes his lips.

He is resistant to garlic and crosses, probably because we have willingly invited this creature into our home.  (We haven’t tried silver bullets or wooden stakes yet; in this crazy PC world there would be complaints and all sorts of fuss; we’d get reported, locked up, blah, blah, blah).

Nothing consoles him; he is unapproachable, a glazed expression in his eyes, saliva running down his chin (to be fair, though, his back teeth haven’t come through yet) and a scream that could shatter glass.

A temporary reprieve from this living hell is water (not the holy sort, just warm bath water with bubbles), but then the pyjamas go on and the gloves come off.  The clock approaches seven o’clock.  We try diversion tactics (Weetabix with warm milk, a teddy called Lowey and a story) but the creature must be put to rest in his coffin (bunk bed with Bob the Builder cover) before he reaches the point of no return.

After a long, drawn out battle, the demon is finally at rest, until sunrise (or about half six).  Although he is sleeping upside down…


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