5. The Dead Baby
My daughter was three, and I was getting her ready for the day. She had been waking up with nightmares almost every night for a month or two. I asked what she wanted for breakfast, and she told me she wanted to share it with the dead baby in her closet.
I thought she meant one of her dolls, but when I pulled them out, she said “no, not a doll, the dead one that sleeps on the closet floor at night.”