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Parents of Reddit, what is the creepiest thing your young child has ever said to you?
http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/1d2v7i/parents_of_reddit_what_is_the_creepiest_thing/
These stories are just amazing. Some are hilarious, some gave me chills.
While changing my daughter in front of the open closet door. She kept looking around me and laughing. I asked her what was so funny. She said, "the man." To which I replied, "what man?" She then pointed at the closet and said, "the man with the snake neck." I turn around and nothing was there. I'm afraid to look into the history of my house to see if anyone hung themselves in the closet. At least she wasn't scared.
***
Why are you crying?
"Bad man"
What bad man?
"There." Points behind me at a dark corner of the room.
Lamp on bookshelf next to said darkened corner falls off as soon as I turn to look.
She slept in our bed that night
***
My father tells me this story of my childhood every once in a while:
When I was around six years old, my dad's best friend committed suicide. We'll call him "Joe" for the sake of the story. Obviously, it was a very rough and emotional time for my dad. Joe was my dad's best man at his wedding, the one guy who was always there for him. After my dad got married, he and my mother left Joe and the town they were in to start a life outside of the town they grew up in. After years of moving around California, my family eventually moved to Utah, where my father worked for a successful internet business. Joe stayed behind in Washington. Because my family were so far away from their old life with Joe, there wasn't a lot of foresight/warning that Joe intended on ending his own life.
Joe's sister apparently had been blaming Joe's wife for her brothers suicide. Joe and his wife drank a lot of booze, and probably as a result, fought a lot. My father always said that they were a passionate couple; yes, they would fight often, but he hardly knew two other individuals who were so completely in love. For this reason, he didn't believe it.
A few days after Joe committed suicide, his widow called up my father sobbing about how she thought it was her fault. After about an hour of trying to console her, he told her "If there was a way for me to talk to Joe now, I guarantee you that he would tell you that he loved you, and that it wasn't your fault that he ended his life." Crying, she still didn't believe him, but she thanked him for the kind words and let my father go.
My dad was obviously distraught after that long, hysteric conversation. He had been down in his office for a while, and he decided to come up and check on his kids while making a pot of coffee to take his mind off of things. We were all supposed to be napping, but he thought he'd peek his head into our rooms to make sure we were safe/maybe try to have a little smile or brightness added to his day.
Sure enough, when my dad got to my room, I was fast asleep on my bed. He went to my brother's room, and he was also sleeping. Finally, he checks on my sister, who is sleeping as smugly as an angel. He decides to go back towards my room and into the kitchen to make some coffee.
As he walks by my room, he notices a whimper. He turns around, and enters my room, where he finds me weeping. I was five years old, so the way I was crying seemed odd to him. Normally a five year old would cry drastically over dramatically. I wasn't. I was just sitting on the side of my bed, weeping.
My dad enters my room and says "Matty, whats up? Why are you crying?"
It's then that I stop crying for a moment, look up at him with teary eyes and say "Rick, it's not her fault. I love her. It's not her fault."
With that, I stopped crying, rolled over back onto my bed, and fell swiftly back to sleep.
Needless to say, my dad shit his pants.
***
Getting my two and a half year old daughter out of the bath one night, my wife and I were briefing her on how important it was she kept her privates clean. She casually replied "Oh, nobody 'scroofs' me there. They tried one night. They kicked the door in and tried but I fought back. I died and now I'm here." She said this like it was nothing.
***
When I was about 3 we had a cat that had still born kittens. I asked my father if we could make crosses for them, which he did. As he was making them I asked:
"aren't those too small?",
Dad: "What do you Mean?"
Me: "aren't we going to nail them to them?"
Dad: (after several moments silence) "we're not going to do that"
Me: "oh"
***
My 3 year old nephew was at my cottage. He's asked me numerous times about the "girl over there" while pointing at one of the back bedrooms. The place is small, and there is definitely nobody there so I just dismiss it as a really active imagination (he has lots of imaginary friends).
Then some friends are visiting and they have a daughter around the same age. She has never met my nephew. Twice in the one day she asked about the "pretty girl" while pointing at the exact same room. Definitely caught me out and I didn't know what to think.
Then at Christmas my family was over at my place and my nephew points at a picture of my wife and asks if she is coming to visit us here or does she just stay at the cottage. My wife died ten years ago. Personally I don't really believe in paranormal stuff so it's probably just my logical brain putting together a bunch of kids ramblings but it definitely got my attention.
***
When I was about 4, I would remember talking to "Mr.Peterson" whenever I was at my grandmothers house. He looked like a hobo from the great depression and had a guitar and sang me old timey blues, he told me that he died when he fell of a train he was riding whist drunk on moonshine. I stopped seeing him when I was about 6.
Anyway, 6 months ago I found my dads old acoustic guitar and started playing, and my little cousin told me "Mr.Peterson is proud of you!" And left.
I don't know what to think
***
Possibly the creepiest thing he did was one day I scolded him for misbehaving so he hid his head under his blanket. I pretended I couldn't find him by saying "Where is my little Carson?" He slowly lowered the blanket and with a dead evil stare said, "Carson is gone, I am Rick." I'm certain he's possessed.
*--You were Rick rolled
***
"Before I was born here, I had a sister, right? Her and my other Mom are so old now. They were ok when the car was on fire, but I sure wasn't!"
He was maybe 5 or 6 years old? It was totally out of the blue..
***
I once wondered if I had psychic powers and pretended to scream out for my mom in my mind, summoning up powerfully frightening memories. Seconds later, I shit you not, she came running to my room asking if I was okay and I was like, "Yeah, just testing..."
***
When my little sister first started talking she used to say some really disturbing things. She used to tell us about how her old family would put things inside of her and would make her cry but her Daddy eventually burned her so much that she was able to find us, her new family. She spoke about things like that from the ages of almost two to four, she was much too young to have ever been exposed to any content where children, or anyone else could be sodomized, so my family has always thought she held memories of a prior life.
***
My 4 year old brother liked to tell me stories of his time in Vietnam during the war. He was never exposed to any films, books, or stories about anything war related.
***
My older sister was born the year my Dad's mom died. According to my dad, as soon as my sister was old enough to say the words, she said "I am your mother."
***
When my oldest was about 3 years old I had a really weird dream where an alien was trying to take my son. I was lying in bed watching this alien take him by the hand and started taking off towards the window. When I went to scream I woke up. Here is the creepy part....I wake up to find my 3 year old turning on the night light in our room. He turns to look at me and says "oh, its ok mommy. The alien is gone." .....I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
***
don't have kids of my own yet, but my little brother did something that creeps me out to this day.
He was around 3 when it happened. My mom called me from my room to grab her a towel so that she could keep an eye on both of my little brothers that were playing in the tub. I had grabbed the towel and was just walking into the bathroom when my three year old brother, who normally had that adorable broken little kid speech suddenly sat up straight in the tub, cocked his head and said in the most serious pronunciated voice "look mom, I can't die!". He had crossed his arms over his chest and slid underwater. It took a second for me and my mom to react, but she pulled him out pretty quick. He had inhaled a bunch of water and was crying, but he was ok.
So fast-forward a couple of years, we were replacing the trim in my little brothers' room that was adjacent to the bathroom. We were tearing down the trim in their closet that adjoined to my parents room, and we found an old penciled height chart on the wall where the trim was. There was only one kid named "Alan", and the height chart stopped at the age of five. The old lady that had owned the house before us had sold it to us so she could help take care of her husband in an assisted living home. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that they were the first owners of the house and had never had kids. So we did some some research, and (thanks to the public library's amazing newspaper archive) found an article from the 1950's stating that the old couple had, indeed, had a kid. He had drowned in the tub in the same bathroom my little brother had his episode in. The conclusion in the paper followed somewhere along the lines that his mom wasn't supervising him in the bathroom when he had stood up in the tub, slipped, and hit his head His name was Alan. I refused to even go in my parents bathroom ever again.
http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/1d2v7i/parents_of_reddit_what_is_the_creepiest_thing/
These stories are just amazing. Some are hilarious, some gave me chills.
While changing my daughter in front of the open closet door. She kept looking around me and laughing. I asked her what was so funny. She said, "the man." To which I replied, "what man?" She then pointed at the closet and said, "the man with the snake neck." I turn around and nothing was there. I'm afraid to look into the history of my house to see if anyone hung themselves in the closet. At least she wasn't scared.
***
Why are you crying?
"Bad man"
What bad man?
"There." Points behind me at a dark corner of the room.
Lamp on bookshelf next to said darkened corner falls off as soon as I turn to look.
She slept in our bed that night
***
My father tells me this story of my childhood every once in a while:
When I was around six years old, my dad's best friend committed suicide. We'll call him "Joe" for the sake of the story. Obviously, it was a very rough and emotional time for my dad. Joe was my dad's best man at his wedding, the one guy who was always there for him. After my dad got married, he and my mother left Joe and the town they were in to start a life outside of the town they grew up in. After years of moving around California, my family eventually moved to Utah, where my father worked for a successful internet business. Joe stayed behind in Washington. Because my family were so far away from their old life with Joe, there wasn't a lot of foresight/warning that Joe intended on ending his own life.
Joe's sister apparently had been blaming Joe's wife for her brothers suicide. Joe and his wife drank a lot of booze, and probably as a result, fought a lot. My father always said that they were a passionate couple; yes, they would fight often, but he hardly knew two other individuals who were so completely in love. For this reason, he didn't believe it.
A few days after Joe committed suicide, his widow called up my father sobbing about how she thought it was her fault. After about an hour of trying to console her, he told her "If there was a way for me to talk to Joe now, I guarantee you that he would tell you that he loved you, and that it wasn't your fault that he ended his life." Crying, she still didn't believe him, but she thanked him for the kind words and let my father go.
My dad was obviously distraught after that long, hysteric conversation. He had been down in his office for a while, and he decided to come up and check on his kids while making a pot of coffee to take his mind off of things. We were all supposed to be napping, but he thought he'd peek his head into our rooms to make sure we were safe/maybe try to have a little smile or brightness added to his day.
Sure enough, when my dad got to my room, I was fast asleep on my bed. He went to my brother's room, and he was also sleeping. Finally, he checks on my sister, who is sleeping as smugly as an angel. He decides to go back towards my room and into the kitchen to make some coffee.
As he walks by my room, he notices a whimper. He turns around, and enters my room, where he finds me weeping. I was five years old, so the way I was crying seemed odd to him. Normally a five year old would cry drastically over dramatically. I wasn't. I was just sitting on the side of my bed, weeping.
My dad enters my room and says "Matty, whats up? Why are you crying?"
It's then that I stop crying for a moment, look up at him with teary eyes and say "Rick, it's not her fault. I love her. It's not her fault."
With that, I stopped crying, rolled over back onto my bed, and fell swiftly back to sleep.
Needless to say, my dad shit his pants.
***
Getting my two and a half year old daughter out of the bath one night, my wife and I were briefing her on how important it was she kept her privates clean. She casually replied "Oh, nobody 'scroofs' me there. They tried one night. They kicked the door in and tried but I fought back. I died and now I'm here." She said this like it was nothing.
***
When I was about 3 we had a cat that had still born kittens. I asked my father if we could make crosses for them, which he did. As he was making them I asked:
"aren't those too small?",
Dad: "What do you Mean?"
Me: "aren't we going to nail them to them?"
Dad: (after several moments silence) "we're not going to do that"
Me: "oh"
***
My 3 year old nephew was at my cottage. He's asked me numerous times about the "girl over there" while pointing at one of the back bedrooms. The place is small, and there is definitely nobody there so I just dismiss it as a really active imagination (he has lots of imaginary friends).
Then some friends are visiting and they have a daughter around the same age. She has never met my nephew. Twice in the one day she asked about the "pretty girl" while pointing at the exact same room. Definitely caught me out and I didn't know what to think.
Then at Christmas my family was over at my place and my nephew points at a picture of my wife and asks if she is coming to visit us here or does she just stay at the cottage. My wife died ten years ago. Personally I don't really believe in paranormal stuff so it's probably just my logical brain putting together a bunch of kids ramblings but it definitely got my attention.
***
When I was about 4, I would remember talking to "Mr.Peterson" whenever I was at my grandmothers house. He looked like a hobo from the great depression and had a guitar and sang me old timey blues, he told me that he died when he fell of a train he was riding whist drunk on moonshine. I stopped seeing him when I was about 6.
Anyway, 6 months ago I found my dads old acoustic guitar and started playing, and my little cousin told me "Mr.Peterson is proud of you!" And left.
I don't know what to think
***
Possibly the creepiest thing he did was one day I scolded him for misbehaving so he hid his head under his blanket. I pretended I couldn't find him by saying "Where is my little Carson?" He slowly lowered the blanket and with a dead evil stare said, "Carson is gone, I am Rick." I'm certain he's possessed.
*--You were Rick rolled
***
"Before I was born here, I had a sister, right? Her and my other Mom are so old now. They were ok when the car was on fire, but I sure wasn't!"
He was maybe 5 or 6 years old? It was totally out of the blue..
***
I once wondered if I had psychic powers and pretended to scream out for my mom in my mind, summoning up powerfully frightening memories. Seconds later, I shit you not, she came running to my room asking if I was okay and I was like, "Yeah, just testing..."
***
When my little sister first started talking she used to say some really disturbing things. She used to tell us about how her old family would put things inside of her and would make her cry but her Daddy eventually burned her so much that she was able to find us, her new family. She spoke about things like that from the ages of almost two to four, she was much too young to have ever been exposed to any content where children, or anyone else could be sodomized, so my family has always thought she held memories of a prior life.
***
My 4 year old brother liked to tell me stories of his time in Vietnam during the war. He was never exposed to any films, books, or stories about anything war related.
***
My older sister was born the year my Dad's mom died. According to my dad, as soon as my sister was old enough to say the words, she said "I am your mother."
***
When my oldest was about 3 years old I had a really weird dream where an alien was trying to take my son. I was lying in bed watching this alien take him by the hand and started taking off towards the window. When I went to scream I woke up. Here is the creepy part....I wake up to find my 3 year old turning on the night light in our room. He turns to look at me and says "oh, its ok mommy. The alien is gone." .....I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
***
don't have kids of my own yet, but my little brother did something that creeps me out to this day.
He was around 3 when it happened. My mom called me from my room to grab her a towel so that she could keep an eye on both of my little brothers that were playing in the tub. I had grabbed the towel and was just walking into the bathroom when my three year old brother, who normally had that adorable broken little kid speech suddenly sat up straight in the tub, cocked his head and said in the most serious pronunciated voice "look mom, I can't die!". He had crossed his arms over his chest and slid underwater. It took a second for me and my mom to react, but she pulled him out pretty quick. He had inhaled a bunch of water and was crying, but he was ok.
So fast-forward a couple of years, we were replacing the trim in my little brothers' room that was adjacent to the bathroom. We were tearing down the trim in their closet that adjoined to my parents room, and we found an old penciled height chart on the wall where the trim was. There was only one kid named "Alan", and the height chart stopped at the age of five. The old lady that had owned the house before us had sold it to us so she could help take care of her husband in an assisted living home. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that they were the first owners of the house and had never had kids. So we did some some research, and (thanks to the public library's amazing newspaper archive) found an article from the 1950's stating that the old couple had, indeed, had a kid. He had drowned in the tub in the same bathroom my little brother had his episode in. The conclusion in the paper followed somewhere along the lines that his mom wasn't supervising him in the bathroom when he had stood up in the tub, slipped, and hit his head His name was Alan. I refused to even go in my parents bathroom ever again.
