Horror Report

Tag: ayden

  • The perils paranoid fatherhood

    My wife is in St. Maarten for the week—my son and dog are both stuck with me alone for the week.. The strict regiment of 9pm nbedtime failed last night already.. I envision the day care start times as being late each day too if the pattern, already set in motion, continues..

    Without delving too deep into my personal issues here, this has been a rough bit for me .. Eight crazy nights’ worth of being the loner dad—that doesn’t sound right does it?—and knowing that, while I peer out of my dirty coal-covered windows at a lazy winter gray sky my wife will be suffering through sunny days with 80 degree temperatures..

    Nonetheless, these are the plights and perils of only one parent going on a vacation while the other does not.

    However, in my strange mindset, my wife set me the photo you see with this post of the view from her airplane wing as she flew south.. My first thought was how much it resembled the scene from the Shatner TWILIGHT ZONE.. Really..

    images (1)

    Maybe this is my other paranoia setting in—the fear of flying that was deeply ingrained in my non-traveling parents at an early age.

    People of the coal region inflict that on others.. My wife, who was from Philadelphia, never had to worry about the sheltered mountain mentality of being fearful of change and discovering new things.. I suppose now 30+ years into that fear, it’s still so hard to overcome that I see visions of monsters on airplane wings..

    My son has already announced that he listens to ‘mommy when she counts to three,’ but went on to remind me ‘but I am not going to listen to you when you do it!’ And then he belted out an evil laugh..

    7 more days..
    One week.
    Either from parental hell or from angelic heaven.

    Time will tell. As will moods—and God forbid some wretched snowstorm piles up this week, forcing us to maintain sanity in four walls.

    While in St. Maarten? 85. Sunny. What else is new..

  • Why do we talk?

    My nearly 4-year-old has an amazing way of staying away, whether it is by asking for endless bed stories or asking for drinks of water, there’s always a creative flow when the lights go off..

    Last night, his attempts to stay away were a bit different. He asked logical questions that, I can tell, were really on his mind.. He wondered to me, “why do I talk?” And then “how do I talk?”   I tried to explain in a somewhat scientific approach–looking at the clock and realizing that it’s long overdue for sleep to take hold of him, I shortened things up a bit and said “God made you be able to talk.”   Then he asked, “but where is God?”  Of course, ‘heaven’.. And then “But where’s heaven, I can’t see it?”

    I just said “up there” and sternly said it’s bedtime..

    As I sat there watching him journey into twilight and dreamland, these questions became my fated destiny that would keep me awake long past my bedtime as well..

    Sure, why do we talk? The five senses.. all of those easy scientific methods can explain away the normal intricacies of the human body. So we know how we talk.. evolution.. sounds we make as infants and the learned behavior of voice and recognition of words.. It makes sense ..

    Or does it.
    Wait..

    Why do we talk?

    The first thing I thought of was a horror movie I saw last year called PONTYPOOL. The premise of that film was a radio show host who was narrating a crazy development; Zombies. And those zombies were being created by people who lost their ability to understand words–saying the words so many times the words lost meaning…

    Ever do that?
    Ever something so much that it begins to not make any sense anymore?

    But why does it make sense to begin with?

    We talk, in a way I suppose, because we need to communicate.  We need to share and tell others our fears, thoughts, suggestions, and hints.  Early man needed to alert fellow community dwellers of the threats posed by animals, cliffs, or rocks along the path to the stream where fresh drinking water would be found.. And then if someone died from eating the plant that looked good but was poison, we needed to tell others. I just still can’t understand why someone would have eaten an onion, unless it was on a dare.

    So communication and sharing information is the prime reason for talking, right?

    But that still, for me, does not answer the question my toddler son posed to me before sleeping: Why, in fact, are we beings who talk?

    I have two autistic children in my family–so many people can say the same thing these days, can’t they? In their world, talking is not nearly as important as it is for others.. As a matter of fact, they are both over a decade in age and their vocabulary is not nearly on par with others’ abilities. But they have their own skills that no others can have–they perceive. They are able to move beyond the tactile and break out of their limits.. They are further along the autism scale than others, so I don’t know how good or furthered their speech will get in life. But for now, they are smart as can be, sharp as nails, and able to express themselves in a far deeper way than children who talk.  The one thing I am amazed with more than anything: For their age, and inability to use words like others, they don’t lie. They can’t lie. They show their emotions immediately and wear them like proud banners on their sleeves. Happiness, anger, sadness, or fear.. For children who can talk fine and talk a lot, lies many times flow from their lips like hot lava from volcanoes..

    But still, none of this answers the question: “Why do we talk?”

    Others have asked this question as well. Since the moment prior to sleep last night,. I have been Googling and even BINGING all I could concerning the question.. I found out that Noam Chompsky believes it to be an innate human trait: Talking..  Lots of people also wonder why we talk in our sleep.. Also there are reasons we talk, the scientific explanations as to how our vocal cords evolved through time to allow the better movement of air and noise.. A 2010 NPR article explains,

    “Speech, by the way, is the most complex motor activity that any person acquires — except [for] maybe violinists or acrobats. It takes about 10 years for children to get to the adult levels,” says Dr. Philip Lieberman, a professor of cognitive and linguistic science at Brown University who has studied the evolution of speech for more than five decades.

    Lieberman says that, looking back at human evolution, it’s evident that after humans diverged from an early ape ancestor, the shape of the vocal tract changed. Over 100,000 years ago, the human mouth started getting smaller and protruding less. We developed a more flexible tongue that could be controlled more precisely, and a longer neck.

    The reason the neck started getting longer, Lieberman says, is that the tongue moved down, pulling the larynx lower, requiring more room for it all in the neck. “The first time we see human skulls — fossils — that have everything in place is about 50,000 years ago where the neck is long enough, the mouth is short enough, that they could have had a vocal tract like us,” he says.

    That’s fine and understandable.
    But why…?

    Isn’t it amazing that children learn how to talk so early in life? How they pick up on the words being used around them and somehow figure out the meanings of those words?  Yet there’s so little achieved in the scientific world that explains the real reasons this occurs.. This video portrays a unique experiment.. the Speech Home project.. It was a dad who performed a language observation experiment, with every second of the man’s son’s life from the moment of birth to three years old to showcase how language happens..

    [youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75XxjJYuV7I?list=PLB20439E638039F36]

    The video shows something also interesting.. as the boy learned words, the parents dumbed down their own speech.. using simpler words. As the child learned more, the parents began to increase their vocabulary again, thus introducing the child to newer forms of words and phrases. And all of this happened naturally without purposely intent. It was innate.. and Chomsky said.

    5000 words by the time a child is 5..
    Think about that?

    We know how we talk. We are beginning to understand why we talk..

    But I still don’t know how to explain that to a child.. because in the end, even I cannot comprehend the magnitude of the incredible human trait: Speech.

  • Out with the new. In with the old.

    The rituals begin anew..
    Fireworks around the world.. celebrations. Bars packed with amateurs attempting to recreate the perfect scene from a movie that never really was real to begin with.. And Times Square. That beautiful little piece of concrete island where a million people sway together, sing together, kiss each other, and desperately try to find a working toilet or corner alley to relieve themselves of their holiday cups of cheer..

    It’s New Years Eve..
    And we don’t have Dick Clarke to kick around anymore.. Ryan Seacrest will due. He’s not ‘out’ at this time but certainly has solidified himself in becoming the face that my three year old will see one day when he is 21 years of age and hopefully–hopefully! making smart decisions with his body in bars..

    We will have to ensure Taylor Swift, undoubtedly. She is the flame of the year–he flame is bright and she’s mopping up each last second of fame and TIME magazine covers.

    That is how 2014 was.. it was a year of the unreal–planes going missing and acts of war that were never called them. Children being massacred as sacrifices to demons.. Selfie sticks. The perversion of television.. the mind numbing ignorance of Americans.. the total comedy collapse. It was a year when everything stopped being funny.

    Jokes don’t work anymore, but GIFs do.. Sitcoms are toast. But VINE is the most.. and REDDIT is king, but 4CHAN still leads–they’re the engine that creates the creative machine..

    As we turn a blind eye to the calender’s end and welcome in a new year with drunken melodies at watering holes, I am enthusiastically looking forward to 2015..

    There’s a few reasons why, which I will tell you in this already too lengthy post..
    A listing of why ‘everything is awesome.’

    2015 is just cool.

    Think about it.. we made it this far. 2015.. I can recall so many events over the past 15 years–hell, even 30.. And it all just flew by. The sands of time are quickly moving through the hourglass of our minds.. But that is nothing to be sad about. As some would say, the only real thing that exists is the present. The moment you’re in now.. the time you’re reading this, or scanning it, or clicking off in boredom. This is real. The past was real.. but it’s gone. Nothing to lament or be shameful of.  So make everyday a little more real and seize the day. This day. Nothing from yesterday.. and ignore the future, it doesn’t even exist..

    We have gone through 15 years of mindless hell. Terror and torture.. no role models worth modeling.. an invasion of technology and humanoids.. machines and robots that will take our jokes away..
    We have also endured the setup to what appears to be a police-like state, which constant surveillance and Fusion Centers, red light cams, and constant drivel on the still existence cable snooze networks about how  it’s all to keep us safe..

    But in 2015, we’re so over that.
    It’s time for a change, and attitude adjustment and a rude awakening for the hounds of negativity that worship at the alter of evil. We have the power to change the course of history, and I think 2015 may be the year we will.

    We are so over some other stuff, too..
    I think selfishness has gotten boring. Perhaps this is the year when the selfies will end and, well, maybe the couplies will take over.. we will still capture and tweet and tumble all the moments of our lives, but I sense a bit of something more taking place. I think we long for affection, not attention. I believe that 2015 will be the year we decide to forgo the nonsense of meaningless and start searching for the soul again.. A deeper appreciation of life, and a core meaning to what we are even earthlings to begin with.

    Maybe 2015 will be the year we collectively decide that reaching for the stars is the best thing humans can do. Maybe we are made for the stars since we are from them anyway. Often during ocean trips, I stare at the ocean and become frightened but secure all at the same time. Frightened at the immense body of water knowing the power it has to indiscriminately kill me, but yet at the same time know that somehow that ocean is the home to all human life. The same with space–staring at the stars does not feel like peering at other worlds, but quite the contrary. It feels like you’re looking at a photograph of where you were from, you’re youth before life, complimenting your mortal body’s makeup of stardust and ancient history..

    I feel we are getting a little ‘over’ celebrity .. Twitter has made us feel closer. We can stream music. We don’t need theaters to see movies anymore.. and the TVGUIDE has outlasted its time. Things are changing.. the old days are over. That’s not a bad thing..
    Instead, the user, the moviegoer or music lover, TV addict or avid reader, all have new abilities to see the art their choose to and enjoy the entertainment they want to. When they want to.. We are not impressed with the rich and famous–instead we have sort of grown to ignore their non-plight. I think that will continue in 2015..

    The economy sucks. Just plain sucks. Joblessness is immensely bad, and without question you know someone who is unemployed or you are unemployed.. We are over this. We want a change.. Maybe the collective consciousnesses will assist us in making a better future in the coming year. Sometimes when you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired, you make the choice to stop being sick and tired.

    I think 2015 will be the food revolution’s culmination. The FOOD BABE is mocked and hated by millions, but think about her message, minus the political tones.. She is simply saying to eat better and know your ingredients. And stop eating plastic. And food coloring.. and stuff. All that stuff. Just eat food. I think in 2015, we will continue to shop smarter and better, and with prices soaring, we will start to educate ourselves about what we are paying for.. and going broke for. And maybe our stomachs will thank us by December 2015 with a better digestive system..

    We will accept more people in 2015.. as the generation born since 1995 becomes 20, they will bring with them a strong pursuit of acceptance. Hate is so 20th century.. I hope it stays confined to that..

    The challenges around the world are going to become more clear–the despot and dictators who ravage the landscape and kill the spirit of their people will be evident. In 2014, we saw the senseless murder of children.. women.. babies.. we know the enemy. The enemy is seemingly not of this world. I hope 2015 is the year when the world puts its hands together and deals with the disgusting vermin who inhabit far too many towns and nations on this globe..

    I think President Obama will have a better year.
    There’s something to be said for his critics. He has been far less in the change and hope category.
    But Americans want to like their leader. This may be the year we finally do, the year we accept him as President.. I don’t think Americans really did accept him yet. He was an obscure figure who inhabited the White House, someone who had a seemingly happy family and golfed .. In 2015, we will come to understand he’s our president–but that does not mean we’ll think he’s good at the job.. instead we will realize he has the job.

    2015 is a big deal–it’s a marker in history.
    It’s been 15 years since Y2K did not kill us. It’s been 3 years since the Mayan calender ending. Each non event become a new beginning.

    I think 2015 is a new beginning.

    Filled in my spirit, there is a great deal of enthusiasm for the year to come.. I pray it will not be 12 months of hell on earth, but instead each day may be the best day ever.

    My son Ayden really got to enjoy a show this year, and you’ve most likely heard of it if you’re under the age of 18 or have children under the age of 10: Phineas and Ferb.  I actually got to love it, too.. The theme of the show was performed by the band BOWLING FOR SOUP–a big bad when I was around 21.. there is an extended version of the main theme called  TODAY IS GONNA BE A GREAT DAY. Clearly the song has ludicrous lyrics.. until you really get to the point of the song. It’s a song of hope and happiness. And watching my son, in all of his innocence, dance his head off when he hears this song, gives me hope and brings a smile to my face that often cannot leave, despite the negative world that exists around us. I suggest you make this song at least a brief part of your day. Enjoy it.. have fun. And dance like a child who innocently still looks at the world.

    [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erjC2HfqRUs]

    Maybe we all should do that a little more..
    Dance like no one is watching?
    Or dance even harder when they do watch..

    HAPPY NEW YEAR
    2015
    -BRYAN SMOLOCK,
    WWW.HORRORREPORT.COM

  • A fumblr on Tumblr?

    A fumblr on Tumblr?

    I have been a Tumblr blogger for about four years now, on and off.. While I have several hundred followers, I really don’t find myself finding TUMBLR to be a place for dedicated blogging or long winded posting.. The scene there is credits weird GIFs and cat memes much more than someone with a thoughtful and hardcore post about geopolitical affairs or transhumanism. Hence, NIGHT TERROR NEWS..

    About a year ago, though, I found myself traveling down a suspicious road on TUMBLR.. Someone reblogged a photograph I posted of myself. It was not a selfie, but one of me alone.. I don’t do selfies.  Really, I don’t. And I will never buy a selfie stick..

    Nonetheless, I was first a little flattered .. the person who reblogged it made some sort of comment about my beautiful eyes. And then in an about face, quipped about my receding hairline–I cannot convince people, but I have had this since about 6-years of age..

    When I delved deeper into the reblogger’s site, I realized the person was a transsexual who literally believed I was her/his ex-boyfriend. I messaged the person a friendly ask to take down the image.. I was greeted a day later with a fiercely angry message accusing me of bigotry and hate, with the author stating the only reason I send the takedown request was because I was uncomfortable with the sexuality of the website’s owner.  In one sense, I felt uncomfortable being pictured in a posting right under that of jiggling testicles and above a woman with male parts. But the real reason was that I was just creeped out by it.. Things worked themselves out. A few days later the person’s website vanished from TUMBLR never to be found again..

    But something a little similar just happened today.
    Last night, I posted the photograph you can see here on NIGHT TERROR NEWS of my son sitting on Santa Claus’ lap on my personal TUMBLR account. This time, my son’s photo was reblogged by a suspicious site called ‘Dedicated Parent.’  So I figured it was one of the many parents I follow or one of those who follow me. I was wrong.. I learned that the site posts this:

    downloadImages and blog posts about parenting and trying one’s best from the heart.

    I found that not only was my photograph was hosted on a website that also seemed to curate and collect other private moments from various people’s TUMBLR blogs..  There are images of people breastfeeding.. private moments between parent and child..   The site does not seem to have an owner who represents himself or herself in any way.. nothing to showcase the age or interest.. And certainly no explanation as to why someone is randomly taking images from other personal TUMBLR accounts and simply reblogging them.

    Of course, one can easily tell me and anyone else: Once you put something on TUMBLR, it somehow becomes not yours immediately. You can invent the best photo.. publish the most meaningful text.. and boom. Reblogged.. no credit. People simply stealing and purging, taking what they want  and leaving the source of it all lost in the dust of the Information Superhighway.

    I love TUMBLR for its ease. I hate it for the creep factor..

    I am also not alone. I found this site written by someone equally angry at the DedicatedParent Tumblr for doing to them what they did to me today..

    So I pose the question.. is this all too creepy?
    I have sincerely been thinking about quitting TUMBLR and refocusing on some other web activity in 2015 anyway.. Three websites for one person is a little too much.. I feel NIGHT TERROR NEWS and the HORROR REPORT are just enough..

    I would just love some thoughts on this matter..
    I wanted to do a parenting blog.. But things like this make me say no..
    And DedicatedParent on Tumblr just made my quitting the blog service come be possibly coming a wee bit sooner than expected..

  • The meeting before Christmas: Ayden tells Santa the final wish list

    Ayden met Santa for the second time last night. He announced his list, but this time shortened it down to two things. I think he panicked a bit and clammed up once he was face to face with the big guy..

    Although afterwards he asked a good question: What is Santa doing here right now instead of the North Pole? He knew how busy a time it was.. how did Santa have a chance to come to Ashland, PA? I reassured him .. he was not as persistent as he will be at four, or even five.

    I recall my ‘moment’ of realization came around four. So if that happens with my son, I’m just loving getting this one magical Christmas with the amazing innocence of believing in something.

    Funny enough, our moment with Santa has been recorded for posterity by the POTTSVILLE REPUBLICAN. A reporter even got a quote from both of us.. John Usalis writes,

    Inside the Legion post, members sold hot food while people came in to warm up. Santa Claus was also inside, ringing bells as children came to tell him their Christmas wishes.

    Ayden Smolock, 3 1/2, of Ashland, was attending his first Old Fashioned Christmas and told Santa that he wanted a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sewer lair play set. He was also excited to get a candy cane from Santa. His father, Brian Smolock, enjoys coming to the event.

    “The event has a very nice feel, like a mini Jim Thorpe,” Smolock said. “It’s a good atmosphere. I was over at the historical building across the street and they’re doing a good job there.”

    So it is written.
    SANTA, now you know. Even the media is reporting Ayden’s wish list!

  • A proud moment

    My wife, a proud graduate. Me, a proud husband. Ayden, a perfect angel during graduation (with the help of ear buds and an iPad.) A good day.

    Tara had years of educational challenges. It was worth it.

     

  • Empty restaurants and quiet streets

    My life has changed considerably since the carefree days of my early 20s.. I am not saying that is a negative thing, but just instead a product of growing.. Interestingly, there are times I go back and see even what I posted on the HORROR REPORT about 10 years back, and really not much has changed in that regard.. It’s my personal life where the most has occurred..

    When you’re a dad, and your wife is a mom, you’re tired by ten and rarely get the chance to get out of the house.. date nights are a dime a dozen, and even when they take place you’re mostly worried for the last half of it about how your child is doing at home with whoever is watching..

    There are other times though where a simple act of driving can open the floodgates of memories.. Last night, a simple act like that did happen. Around 9, I got extremely hungry for food from a little place called Hollywood Pizza in Mount Carmel, Pennsylvania–I name it because you should consider it if you’re ever in a zip code nearby, it’s some of the greatest pizza that is eaten on the crust of the planet.. Before I digress into a litany of food related statements, let me get back to my drive.. It was 9pm, cold as hell–if that’s possible–and the streets were empty. Only 9pm on a Friday night? Empty? It was so quiet I could hear the electricity surge through the lines above me, that faint and dull hum that comes with it filled the night air with some form of noise..

    Bars were empty, it seemed..
    Even the restaurant I picked my food up was without customers most of the night..
    And my nostalgia hit.. I recalled very similar nights in my early 20s, with friends, walking on a cold street into a watering house or food establishment.. I remember the laughter and the strange things we’d do, trying to act as adults when we needed to but still refrain from adulthood when we could.. I was fond of those times, though nostalgia normally shields your memory from the boring nights or horrid times..

    What confounds me is this: On Thanksgiving night, while driving home from a family dinner, I witnessed with my own eyes how busy malls and Walmarts were. But that seemed to change on Friday.. I doubt that Black Friday sales will be as good as what was expected..

    Last night, I was further shocked to see so little of life outside at night. I understand that this could be a product of my area, perhaps just a little hole in a wall town without people outside.. I am sure cities had bars packed with patrons.. Right?

    I am actually beginning to consider the possibility that people have evolved away from enjoying night life .. It seems that once nightfall comes, house doors and windows get locked and computers go on, people slip away from life to peruse Facebook for too many hours or play Farm Heroes way too long.  The watering house always has empty seats..  We are choosing virtual reality over reality..

    I am 34 this year.. While some may consider that young, I feel old. Joints are aching and my body is aging. Then again, friends and family remind me often that I shared those same complaints with them at 24.  Things have changed greatly in ten years.. And with changes comes fond memories of times past.. Nostalgia..

    But is nostalgia a good thing? And even more, what is it? Smell and touch can bring it back.. short little snippets of sayings may inspire it.. times of the year often hit you with it.. But it can also be deceptive.. people can be turn a dark past into a bright memory with a bit of falsehood in a brain.  I try to explain this to people, often without success, but I get very nostalgic on 9/11 each year.. Not because I enjoyed watching 3000 people die, but because I turned 21 and recall the immense patriotism after 9/11 in 2001. Nostalgia can trick you ..

    There is a study I recall reading that nostalgia is more present when you are lonely or sad.  Last night, while I walked a lonely sidewalk under a street light to get my meal, perhaps that is exactly what I was feeling. After all, here it was, a Friday night, and I heard no music. No laughter.. nothing. Just dimly lit bars without customers.   And hell, even a crowded barroom is a lonely place.. Just picture a taproom void of people..

    Perhaps this generation growing is the last that will encounter social life in the same way we know it to exist. . ? Maybe those virtual reality worlds will give us the sense of companionship we desire? Perhaps we can program it into us..? Maybe the future will come complete with an adroid robot sex doll for our love and a headset and computer for social experimentation.

    And if that is the case, how will nostalgia work in the future? What will people reminiscent about ?

    The good old days weren’t ever that good.
    Tomorrow is not as bad as it seems. Billy Joel sang that long before we thought that..
    And those two statements make sense now..

    Crowded and smoky barrooms of my 20s weren’t great. They were repulsive many times, and by 2am a complete insult to humanity itself.
    And tomorrow, the future, really won’t be as bad..

    Right?

  • THE SNOWBALL FAMILY FIGHT

    There are so many reasons I love this photo of me and my son Ayden having a snowball fight.

    First off, he is clearly winning.. secondly, I am wearing socks on my hands because I couldn’t find gloves.. and thirdly, in some artistic oddity, it appears that I am vomiting a tree branch..

    While I did not do such, my hands were not kept warm by the socks. Ayden whooped me hard with giant ice bombs.. and we laughed until we couldn’t feel our toes. An amazing early winter snowstorm of fun.

  • THE NEW VICE, ALL CHOCOLATY NICE

    I took some notice so something..

    I am eating way too much of my son’s Halloween candy, sugary snacks he earned by dressing as Spiderman. I  was just a dad that night, no Freddy attire.. nothing. He rightfully has the candy jar..

    But.. at the same time, I am perplexed by his non-desire to eat it.. He likes the Skittles and a few of the taffy candies, but the majority of the chocolate bars go untouched. Which is a problem for me..

    I am the hunter an I found my prey.. Hershey bars and, my favorite, Baby Ruths.

    I secretly put them in the freezer to get them nice and cold.. when  Ayden Morris is not looking, I get one out.. munching on it in private like it’s a piece of the most desired product on the face of the earth.  I used to drink a lot of beer and wine. I stopped months ago and really don’t regret that conscious decision to get healthy and cleanse my body.

    Since October 31st, I have replaced the goodness of having no vices with a major body bomb: Endless pieces of candy from a Spider-man head Halloween bucket. I need an intervention..

  • FRIGHTFUL PARENTING: FEVER OF THE WITCH

    FRIGHTFUL PARENTING: FEVER OF THE WITCH

    I think I swear.. my son gets sick on holidays.. He’s 3 and a half, going on 30, but I remember each and every Halloween — and beginning of the Christmas season— he has been ill. Little Ayden Morris is setting a pattern.. to fall under the weather not only when the weather changes, but at times when important dates and events are set on the calender..

    Parents may consider this situation to be abundantly the same as their own.. The perils of parenting–something I have written about previously on other websites.  Since February 2011 when my son was welcomed into the brave new world with open arms and all of the human love someone can give him, worries increased as well. The prospects of nuclear war is scary.. but so often, late night temperatures spiking above 103 degrees is even worse.. heck with Chernobyl, a forehead is hot..

    Last night and today are no different.. And timing, yet again, was key. We should have known..

    Trick or treat night tonight.. I think we will elude the subject and attempt to keep it light. No Halloween talk. Because if he misses trick or treating due to his fever he will never forgive us—if he knows.. But last year we had the same scenario.. the year before did as well. In 2011, on Ayden’s first Halloween, my wife and I brought him to see his maternal grandmother recovering from a bought of medical issues .. she died only days later, but left this world happy. The only thing she wanted to see before leaving the planet was Ayden in his STAR WARS Ewok costume…

    As noted, Halloween appears to be cursed for Little Ayden. From babyhood to toddlerland, the times are often cursed when it comes to the season of the witch.

    So this Halloween, it’s doctors appointments with a fresh diagnosis of strep throat and no doubt another sleepless night, and the alternation of Tylenol and Motrin .. fun times ahead.

    It’s somewhat interesting that Ayden, home sick today, has reverted to asking for every single product he sees on a commercial.. he wants Santa Claus to bring it for him. He’s already entering Christmas mode, even before Halloween is over.

    Makes sense..
    Even  he has written off this trying time..
    My favorite holiday.. three years in a row filled with fevers and sickness. Cursed..

    Happy Halloween indeed..