A couple of days ago, I read this post about Horrifying Things That Children Say, like taking an elderly person's face in their hands and whispering, "it's not good-night…it's good-bye." Stuff like that, because kids are very cute and sweet and lovely, but can also be absolutely terrifying when they want to be or when they are possessed by demons (see: The Ring; Poltergeist; et cetera).

OK. So last night, around 8PM, I put my son to bed, tucked him in, and went downstairs to clean up. After puttering around on my computer for a few minutes, I made myself a bowl of ice cream and carried it upstairs. I checked on Indy, saw a huddled bunch of covers on his bed that looked fairly peaceful, shut the door, and went into my bedroom. I went over to my vanity for the bottle of nail polish I had been planning to do my nails with and noticed it was missing, but decided to just look for it in the morning.

I sat down on my bed with my ice cream to watch Lindsay (ssh, I can't help it).

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw this: