.A little story about insanity & insomnia.

Old Backstory -
I am a giant wuss when it comes to the dark. For as long as I have been making memories I have been afraid of the dark. I like to blame undiagnosed insanity an overactive imagination. For example, I'm convinced that the creepy puppet from the Saw movies lives in my basement and is just waiting for me to make the mistake of doing laundry at night.

."Oh, you thought you could get that load of towels out of the dryer at 10:00pm? Think again!".

Recent Backstory -
For the most part Amelia goes right to sleep at bedtime {8:00pm}. However, there are times {like the entire last week for example} when she chooses to instead lay in her bed and talk to her pig {her horrendous lovie that I hate and she's bonded to like it's her *real* mother} or read whatever book she's demanded to take to bed.
Cheyenne & I can hear her down in her room chattering away for anywhere from 5 minutes to 90 depending on how much energy and good conversation she's got left at that time of night. From upstairs in our family room the whole thing is slightly maddening {JUST GO TO SLEEP!} but mostly pretty cute {aw she's down there reading a story to Pig}.

Last night's story -
Last night at about 9:30pm I could no longer handle my uncomfortable pregnant self and decided that a bath was in order. I left Cheyenne upstairs in the family room and walked downstairs with visions of weightlessness in my head. I think I've mentioned the odd layout of our hall/bathroom/bedroom situation before; basically there's a short hall off of the formal living room that has a door between it and the livingroom, off of the hall is the nursery {on the left} the bathroom {straight ahead} and our room {to the right} all with doors {of course}. After 8:00pm {when Amelia SHOULD be sleeping} all 4 doors {hall/nursery/bathroom/bedroom} are closed so that the nursery stays as quiet as possible. This means that the "hall" is it's own tiny windowless pitch black room of terror at night.
So, there I am headed towards the bathroom via certain death the hall and I hear Amelia plain as day talking to that damn pig! So my first reaction was annoyance {seriously, go the eff to sleep} and then I got a mental image of her in there in the dark having what seemed to be a very lively conversation and within milliseconds my brain turned that into "the baby is possessed or has schizophrenia or is communing with the undead" {because that seems totally reasonable right?}. After a few minutes of my insanity overactive imagination running wild I opened the nursery door planning on telling her to lay down and go to sleep. But when I went in she was laying down seemingly sound asleep. Now, the functional normal side of me says "she's playing possum because she got caught" but the eccentric part of my brain says "well, clearly she's some kind of demon's puppet".
I walked backwards out of her room {never turn your back on a demon puppet} closed the nursery & hall doors and ran back upstairs like the darkness of the house was hot lava.
Cheyenne looked at me questioningly {as to be expected} and I just said "well the baby is either awake or a demon puppet. Either way, I no longer want a bath". 

What we learn from this story -
1. Amelia shouldn't be put down for a nap so late in the day that she stays awake for an hour after bedtime.

2. I need a therapist.

3. My husband should be given some kind of award.