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The other night we were all piled up in the big bed watching TV. The show was a little spooky and the mood was set with all the lights out.
From the big walk-in closet (it stretches the whole width of the room) came a low-pitched groaning. Knowing it was probably the dog stuck in there again, I teasingly told The Boy that the monster-in-the-closet sounded like it was hungry. I could tell from his eyes, he wasn’t quite sure whether to believe me or not, but with all the bravado a nine-year old can muster, he rolled his eyes and said, “Nuh-uh”.