For many years we would hear something that sounded like a giant book thud to the floor in the kitchen, or a tinkling of pots and pans in a cabinet, or clanking in the hall closet. We finally quit getting up to see what it was, when there was nothing to see.
"That thud is a refrigerator noise," he exclaimed.
"The pots and pans?" I asked.
"Your imagination." (Then it was his, too because he heard it.)
The activity is becoming physical. The boys have an emergency vehicles (ambulance, firetruck, police car etc.) wooden puzzle with contacts that activate sounds when the pieces are put in. The other night I placed all of the pieces in the empty puzzle, turned off the light and closed the playroom door. The puzzle went crazy with siren sounds when I left the room. That was odd.
I waited outside the darkened room. Quietly I opened the door. Nothing! When I turned on the light, the sirens wailed.
I waited for them to stop. Then I turned OFF the light. They wailed again. I showed Bill.
He said, "Oh some of your hebbie-jeebie stuff? It's a puzzle. Nothing more."
The next day the boys were coming over. I went to get the puzzle. The firetruck was missing. GONE!
I showed Bill how turning the light on and off activated the puzzle noises. Which never happened before.
"Ahh, forget about it!"
"Where is the firetruck?" I asked.
"Who knows? Doesn't matter. Okay so maybe your ghoooost took it." He teased me.
That evening after the kids were gone, we were watching TV in the living room with the cat on a chair nearby, when the puzzle went off in the darkened playroom.
"Did you hear that?" I asked.
"I heard it. And it doesn't matter." He went to the kitchen, whipped around in the doorway and shouted, "That was not funny! Now you got me wet. Where is the squirt gun? I felt you do it."
I looked at him like HE was crazy. "I've been sitting here looking at my phone. I haven't moved! Look! I have nothing. It's my cell phone."
"Then the cat ran by with a wet tail and flicked me on the back of my leg!"
I stared at him. "The cat is still asleep in the chair right here."
He barked, "One of you is messing with me! I felt the squirt gun. I know it was you!"
I got up and walked over to him and felt the bottom of his shorts. The right leg was WET! As though it had been squirted. Not dripping but wet!
Embarrassed as I am to admit it, I asked him to take off his shorts. "It's not urine. It's colorless, odorless, but wet. I think it IS water."
He looked at me and said, "Really? You think I pee backwards? Where is the squirt gun? I know you did it."
I DID NOT DO IT.
He refuses to discuss it. Paranormal? Abnormal? Something is going on.