I was out at the curb at 1:31 a.m. in my night robe. I figured out why my son had been waking up screaming in the middle of the night.
As I fed his brother a bottle in the dark, a brightly-colored toy suddenly said in technicolor terrible flashes: "Level, level 1, let's have some fun!" How about no, Creeper Toy. Mama's not gonna have this.
Remnants of my son's nighttime bottle in one hand and the rogue playtable clutched in the other, I marched out of their bedroom and into the night, an exorcising mother on a mission.
The HOA may cite me as a nighttime oddity. "Who was the lady in barely a night robe carrying the zombie kid playtable at 1:31 a.m. on (my street)? She looked suspicious."
Suspicious indeed, Nextdoor. But I won the night.
And P.S.: Don't pick up the playtable she left on the curb...unless you want to end up like her, questioning through a bleary mind whether a dead loved one is speaking out through a kid's toy or the toymaker made intentionally shorting-out fuses to really mess with consumers...it's a lot of nighttime thoughts, and I -- no you, should get to sleep. So drive by. Don't be tempted by free stuff that talks. Stick to outdoor toys for curb finds.
