There are over 2000 posts now! I’m going to add my story, though I doubt many of you will see it.

The house where I grew up was pretty new - way newer than any of the other houses on the block. A typical one-story ranch house that you might see in any stretch of American suburbia. Likewise, all the furniture in the house was pretty par for the course. My room had a little-kid bed, a nightstand, a table and chairs…

This isn’t my story, personally, but it’s one that has kicked around my family for so long that it definitely feels like it’s mine. It’s been told and re-told, but I do think that the central details are very solid.

Okay, so this may not be the scariest story ever, and none of you will ever see it because I’m as gray as they come, but it is 100% true and you can make of it what you will.

A few years ago, my then-3 year old had a fever which I was treating with baby Tylenol. I gave him his dose before bed, got distracted and walked into his room to see him holding the medicine bottle in one hand and the dropper in the other saying “I give myself a medicine!!”