Tag: elvis

Trapped In A Closet With Fake Newz Around The Corner

Three quick posts for the price of one today, dawg. Let’s go!


A while ago, lil KJ outgrew his crib, so we upgraded him to his own bed. For the most part,  it’s been alright.  Sometimes, though, I miss the containment of the crib. Take the other night, for example.

I had put him down to sleep, which was a laborious, time-consuming process. About an hour later, I heard his door open.  He happily came bouncing down the stairs, fresh as a daisy.

Oh, c’mon!

The increase in bed freedom has led to an increase in late night wandering.  He usually comes to our room later, though.  Why he was up so early now, no clue. Regardless, I took him back to his room, and he was out within minutes.

I had promised J that I would crash in her bed (that’s a whole ‘nother story), so that’s where I ended up. At around 3AM, I was awakened to KJ screaming for me, and crying.  In theory, I should have just gotten up, but I was barely conscious, so I yelled for him to come to me. I must have dozed off, because, the next thing that I know, I heard KJ frantically yelling for me, plus a lot of indecipherable, two year old toddler gibberish (“Daddy, lkfjk$ajfuebt! Daddy!”).  I had to get up now. I stumbled around upstairs, in the dark, trying to find where the yells were coming from. It was like the sorriest game of Marco Polo ever. Eventually, I realized that the screaming was coming from B’s room.

Or more specifically, B’s closet.

See, B has a dresser in his closet, with a  gap between it and the wall. The gap is roomy enough for me to stand there, for example, but I’m too big to easily wedge myself into it. KJ,  presumably in his hunt for me, in the dark, decided that I must have been in that gap.

He got himself into it, but then couldn’t get back out, and started freaking.  I saw him, lifted him up, and as soon as I did, he calmed down. Fresh as a daisy, he then said ‘Oh, hi daddy!’ as if he was surprised to see me.

Legit, I think that, with R. Kelly making headlines, I had been reading a lot about him and his music lately. KJ must have been secretly reading along with me, too. Otherwise I don’t think that I’ll ever understand why he was trapped in a closet.


Speaking of big new stories, the Momo Challenge was a huge deal recently. As parents, K and I had the same sense of moral panic that you probably did, which meant that we had to confront what our kids were consuming on social media head-on. It’s crazy how impressionable a child’s mind is.

Take J, for instance. In her six year old eyes, a heavy set toy delivery man in a red suit, magic reindeers, unicorns and giant, chocolate-dropping bunnies are all very important to her. Shoot, for a minute, so was a ghost-hunting Elvis Presley.

Knowing this, a few weeks ago, J casually asked me the following:

“Is YouTube Real?”

I was slightly distracted, so I said of course it was real, without hesitation. Real live humans, posting real stuff. In retrospect, this was not the greatest idea.  YouTube is reality, but there’s also a lot of phoney bologna which can fool a naive young brain.  Later on, we had this conversation:

J – “Daddy, I’m scared of the Bad Elf.” ( J loves the Elf On A Shelf, and takes the whole thing very seriously. In turn, I have to treat it seriously.  Imagine her dismay when she came across some dastardly video, of elves behaving badly and ruining Christmas for kids). 

Me – “The Bad Elf isn’t real. You have nothing to be scared of.”

J – “But I saw him on YouTube.”

Me – “So?”

J – “You said YouTube is real.”

Oh. Right. I did say that.

Despite my attempts to explain myself, she was worried about this creepy little jerk for weeks afterwards.

Another time, while out for dinner, J  casually told us that she had been watching the news.  This was odd, as current events isn’t really her thing. She continued on by discussing how mermaids existed, and where you could go to find them.  Believe it or not, she didn’t see this on CNN. It was some random YouTube news channel. Fake newz at its finest, which I had to explain to her.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, despite the Momo Challenge being (most likely) a hoax, the idea of the Momo Challenge was terrifying, because of how easy it could be real.  In my house, anyway, it doesn’t always take much to sway one of my kids.


Speaking of my house, I’d like to think it’s a pretty typical home. I still shake my head at the stuff that takes place in it, though. ‘Round every corner lies a possible surprise.

One night, I turned a corner and almost stepped on J. Instead of going to sleep as asked, she stubbornly put together a makeshift bed in her doorway, and slept there. I mean, based on the amount of effort that this would have taken, it would have been easier and more comfy to just to lie in her regular bed, but what do I know?

KJ was calling me here, on two phones (he drips too hard, as the kids say).  They’re actually a calculator and a broken walkie talkie. The reception on those things is horrible.

On first glance, I was grossed out when I entered B’s room and almost stepped on this. Luckily, it’s just a brown deflated balloon.

This time.

B wasn’t home when I walked into his room to see this, so you can imagine my reaction.  Luckily, it wasn’t some sort of bizarre, inappropriate class project. I found out later that he had an audition, and was practising some lines.

J decided to play dress up. Here she is, as Marshmello, the famous DJ. Curse you, Fortnite.

KJ was walking around eating and drinking. He then pulled a toddler David Blaine. I looked, and his snack had vanished. I finally found it here,  down low, on a shoe rack. I’ve heard of waffle shoes before, but this is ridiculousness!

Anyway, you get the idea. You just never know what to expect, with kids.

One thing that I do know, however…..is that this post is over. Later, y’all.


Bedtime WTF – Elvis Presley Doll, Ghost Hunter Edition

  • monster


I’m a liar.

What? I can admit it.  I’m not always entirely honest with my kids.

I mean, I do strive to be as forthright with them as possible. Sometimes, however, a little white lie or two is required. Yo, I’m not trying to be that deceptive; it’s just, on occasion, it’s best for everyone involved to keep  B and/or J on a need to know basis.

Take the other night, for example, when our house was invaded by monsters.

Or, more specifically, J’s room was invaded by monsters,

Or more, more specifically, J told us that her room was invaded by monsters.

Basically, the monsters were a figment of a four year old girl’s imagination.

Nonetheless, J was legit terrified. As such, I tried the forthright approach. Monsters weren’t real, I told J. They don’t exist. Unfortunately, she wasn’t buying what I was selling. After arguing back and forth, J asked if we had any monster spray. I then did what any parent who was tired of fighting with their child would have done – I fibbed and said that we did.

After rummaging around for a bit,  I managed to find some Monster Spray (a.ka. Febreeze with “Monster Spray” scribbled on the label).  The monsters were under her bed, so I gave them a good spraying, destroying them all.  J then crawled under the sheets, went to sleep, and that was that.

Well...no, I guess not.

Yeah, right!

For real, like 5 minutes later, J came out of her room, insisting that there were now GHOST MONSTERS under her bed, which couldn’t be sprayed.

How the heck do you kill a ghost monster?!

I had no idea. I’m not a Ghostbuster. Anyway, J was petrified. She ended up refusing to go back to her room, and fell asleep in the loft instead. #parentingfail

Let’s flash forward to next night’s bedtime.

J once again refused to go to her bed, because of not only ghost monsters, but GHOST WITCHES! I then did what any parent who was tired of fighting with their child would have done – I went to the basement and got this:

elvis presley doll

Hey, don’t be cruel!

It was the first thing that came to mind. See, J still believes in stuff like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and, obviously, scary monsters. So I decided to fight her sense of reality, with her sense of reality.

After I grabbed the Elvis Presley doll,  I took J to her room, and improvised the “story” of this particular doll.

Back in the day, after I moved out of our old home, my mom also moved into a new place on her own. Being alone for the first time in her life, she was scared. That first night, she couldn’t sleep, because she was afraid of monsters and creepy things in her bedroom, just like J was. So, the next morning, she went to a special store and bought this Elvis Presley doll. It had secret powers that protected you at night from bad things while you slept.

I reminded J of how when we used to go visit grandma, she still had this by her bed. I wasn’t sure how it worked; maybe he came alive at night and fought off the monsters, who knows.  All I know is that we never saw anything scary at grandma’s place. After my mom passed away, I took Elvis and kept him tucked away, in case his powers were ever needed again.

I placed Mr. Presley high in J’s closet, and told her that if she ever felt scared that night, then all she had to do was look at the Elvis Presley doll, and remember that her, and grandma, would keep her safe.

As I told her this tale, J’s eyes were wide, like I stepped on her blue suede shoes. She totally believed me, though (no suspicious minds here), and fell asleep in her bed not long after.

Aight, aight.

Perhaps I exaggerated the details a wee bit.  I’m a liar, I already admitted that. Truth be told, I never asked my mom what the deal was with Elvis. He was her favourite singer, and this doll was randomly displayed prominently in her bedroom. I’m sure the real story behind it wasn’t so crazy…..but what if it was?

Regardless, for one night anyway, Elvis Presley saved me a ton of drama.

And for that, I say thank ya. Thank ya very much.