When my nephew was about 11 or 12 years old, he used to find it, well, at least amusing when we would pretend to be zombies. We would do a zombie walk (which isn’t really that far off from a Frankenstein walk), and go, “Brains! Braaaaaaains!”
For some reason, a few weeks ago, I did that zombie voice and said, “Brains! Braaaains!” in front of my daughter. “Wha’s dat?” she asked me.
Now, lately at night, my daughter has been a little worried about monsters at bedtime. “Let’s talk about monsters,” she’ll tell us. We’d reassure her that the house is safe and mommy and daddy and the kitties and her stuffed Horton are all here to protect her and that the things on the ceiling are just a light and the smoke detector, and not bugs, and that she’s perfectly safe, okay? g’night now.
“Nothings gonna get me?” “No, sweetie.”
Keeping this in mind, I decided it might not be good to introduce her to brain-eating zombies. Thinking quickly, I told her I was a train zombie, and to reinforce my point, I threw in a couple, “Trains! Traaaains!” in my best zombie voice.
Well, she grew attached to the Train Zombie, and loves to “be scared” and run away/hide from him.
Now, we use this to our advantage. When she dilly-dallies at bedtime, the one taking her up to bed will say, “Uh-oh! Who’s that?!?” and the other will start in with the, “Trains! Traaaains!”
The Train Zombie will chase the other two upstairs.
But my daughter is nice. And will share. At least, apparently, with Train Zombies. She’ll run into her play room, grab a toy train, and bring it to the Train Zombie. “Here you go! Now go downstairs.”
And a good Train Zombie will always say, “Thank you.”