Late this afternoon, Andrew, Lucia, and I were all in the living room while Greta napped in her bouncy chair in the office. Lucia had just woken up from her nap but, nonetheless, was in a cheery mood. She was performing some acrobatics on the floor—spinning, splits—and giggling. Then, out of the blue, she looked at us and said, “Ghost in kitchen.” And then kept saying it, just as she did yesterday. “Ghost in kitchen. Ghost in kitchen.” She answered our questions consistently: “What’s in the kitchen, Lucia?” “A ghost.” “Where is the ghost?” “In the kitchen.” I asked her where the ghost was standing—by the island, the stove, the table? “By the table.” We asked if the ghost was a man or a woman, or a baby. “A baby!” “What is the ghost wearing?” “A dress.” “What color?” “Pink.” Then I asked if the ghost was carrying anything, and Lucia said immediately, “Stones.”
This was all pretty freaky. But it got downright terrifying when Andrew asked if Gray Bunny wanted to say hi to the ghost, and she held up Gray Bunny, facing the kitchen, and began calling, “Ghost…ghost…ghost…” She stood that way for a long time, holding out Gray Bunny toward the kitchen. Andrew and I were truly afraid.
An unrelated aside: Even scarier than all this is a bill from Blue Cross that came in the mail today for $138,131.68 slated as “Amount you owe to provider.” We’re pretty certain this is a mistake, since it’s billing us for 30 days of hospital room and board for the entire month of November—when I was home, sitting in our apartment, healthy and healing, Greta already born. Nonetheless, our faces were as white as they were when Lucia held out Gray Bunny for his ghostly encounter.