Led Zeppelin

I put away the baby monitors a couple weeks ago, and could have done it a few months ago, really. The one we still used was in Darcy's and Maggie's room, and for a long time now if one of them has a late-night issue, she will just come downstairs. No crying, just all of a sudden one, usually Darcy, would be at our bedside.

It was a milestone I believe gets overshadowed by the biggies--potty training, walking, self-feeding, talking. I did a lot of thinking about that thing, though. While it was in use, it could be a way to stay remotely connected to the wee ones, and when we played soothing music all through the night, we were soothed as well.

We heard them play together and say funny things, and I couldn't wait for Carrie to forget I could hear her as she made a comment about me to the sidekicks--but I only ever heard what was meant to be heard. I also had plenty of chilling imaginations about it, and if I were more driven, ambitious, less lazy, would have written a story or perhaps a play or screenplay.

Because we around here are into ghost pictures and the aural equivalent known as EVPs (less so than pics--those sounds are hard to stomach alone), it was easy to conjure the monitor as the basis for a horror tale.

You know, Young family, full of love and child-centered fun, with early examples of the monitor in the daily routine, hearing some regular mundane stuff over the monitor, complete with some of the family hearing another member fart over the monitor and cracking up together. That's the good vibe before the devil comes to breakfast.

Then it gets good: we see the bedroom with the couple asleep, as soothing music wafts over the monitor. La la la la la la grunt growl warped voice snort..but not loud enough for the couple to wake. Yes, there's something uncuddly in the baby's room.

I actually just paused to get up to turn on the light, as I blog on the computer that is up in our loft, right next to the playroom, which is darker than the loft lit only by Sportscenter. You guessed it, I scared myself.

Not sure if it gets all standard-horror formula from there, but that's the beginning. Could probably get a half-hour of a movie just from that. Probably progress to conversations between the kids/babies and the Terrible Teddy, a la the pig from Amityville Horror.

The point is, sounds of horror are as scary or scarier than the sights. One of the most frightening scenes to me from the Exorcist is when the young priest is playing and rewinding recordings of Regan (and her guest) alone. Could not have done it. The garbled, twisted, demonic voice....

The baby monitor was interesting because I remember it picking up people's cell phones comversations as well, just like a pair of wireless headphones I thought I just had to have and used three times. I once listened to a pair of high-school girls having a high-school-girl phone chat for a good 10-15 minutes. They swore like, oh my God, twice.

So, to recap, no more monitors to eavesdrop on the kids or my wife or neighbors, and I am certain that I will see in 6 months a blockbuster horror flick involving a baby monitor and I will have no legal recourse to capture any of the proceeds.

But you will know, and that will be enough for me.