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It’s for real—my youngest sees dead people.  At least he says he does.  He comes in to the living room every evening after I have turned on the measly outdoor Christmas lights in our front porch and tells me that there is a ghost at our door.  Sometimes I tell him he’s crazy, sometimes I say OooooooOOOOOooohhhhhhh with a wonderful vibrato that makes it even scarier.  Is this wrong?  I have to do something to entertain myself—I’m tired of him crying wolf.  I’ve never seen a ghost here, and I like to think myself sort of spiritual and intuitive.  Right now, he is leaning over on the sofa cushions while standing and having a very knowing and somewhat intense conversation about a ghost that he sees out front and it’s shirt.  Then he says something about his brother, so he begins to lose credibility.  I’ve tried to get him to tell me what color shirt, but he just looks at me with these big brown eyes and very seriously tries to convey that there is a ghost in a shirt in the porch.  At least he isn’t describing a bloody head wound or an axe in the back.  What to do?  Straight jacket, insane asylum, or blog about it?

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