We had not been in our new home for three months yet when Halloween came around. My son was six-years-old at the time, and he was excited about going trick-or-treating in our new neighborhood.
One night, as he was getting ready for bed, he asked, “Can we go to a haunted house?”
As he climbed between the sheets, I smiled, “Sure, but what’s wrong with the one we live in?”
“What?!” he exclaimed, his eyes as large as saucer plates.
“That’s right,” I said as I turned off the lights and left the room.
That night he slept with us.