Possession, Toddler Style

I don't know what beast of hell took a hold of my son's body yesterday, but I want it gone. DAYMONS, BE GONE (I just shouted that with a horribly executed southern accent).

Simply put, if I had a stake stowed under my bed last night, I can' say I wouldn't have used it.

Okay, I can say that, but mostly just because people seem to take me really literally and I'm not a big fan of explaining myself to social services or plying them with bribes.

As I dropped him off yesterday, I noticed he had circles under his little baby eyes. I mistakenly took that to mean that he might not feel well. What I should have known was that holy water would become a necessity around midnight last night.

When Jason picked him up, his day care provider sweetly pointed out that he was playing flesh eating zombie and decided that two of his fellow inmates looked like tasty morsels. While I thought the biting thing had been curbed it appears that demon possession brings out the teeth in him.

Who knew?

And while I feel a little bad for those kids (no, I don't), I'm more upset that I have to force feed him dinner every night but evidently he'll just haul off and eat a kid whenever he feels like it. I bet they don't have to make stupid airplane noises to get him to open his mouth.

As the afternoon wore on into evening, the demon within my son got progressively angrier and when Jason took the camera away from him last night, the flood gates of hell broke open. Great angry cries of "Mama, Mama!" roared through the house as snot and tears freely flowed down his deceptively cherubic face.

I came in just as fire and brimstone began to rain down upon the kitchen. I fought an epic battle over a grilled cheese sandwich that only ended with a snot covered sandwich and a sweat covered me. I quelled the beast with some ibuprofen and large amounts of milk for a short while.

Sometime shortly before midnight, the house began to shake and rumble and he whose name we don't speak began to scream from the confines of the sweet baby crib I put my son down to sleep in.

The next two hours were a blur of holy water, bibles, crucifixes, casting out of evil spirits and late night Oobi watching.

That farking hand with the eyeballs is freaky scary, ya'll.

He fell asleep on my chest as that talking hand went blah, blah, blah. After being asleep for a while he (and I kid you not) began doing this weird creep down my body and the bed reminiscent of Regan on the stairs. At that point I'd had entirely enough.

Close to 2AM peace began to fall back on the house. I crept into his darkness' room and put his little snoring body back in there. After cleaning up the pea soup/snot mixture that is the remnants of toddler exorcism, I finally fell back asleep.

I can only hope that tonight is better and I don't end up all Father Karras at the bottom of the stairs.