Kids and Aliens

by Bill E. Budd

Shortly after your kid begins talking, you realize that those books and people you trusted on child-rearing should be burned, and those you never took quite seriously you should now be able to quote chapter and verse like Jimmy Swaggart quotes the New Testament. And you should be able to dance and kick and cry in passion for it the same way too.

Early on, a friend suggested he take her for "baby seal" training -- a regimen she'd need. A war hero and a chopper pilot, I initially thought he was being extreme. Now, with my daughter at five years of age, he'd probably charge me triple for the course because he'd have to emotionally break her down first (if that's even possible at this point.). That, and he knows how desperately I need him. Why I didn't immediately pack her off to go live with "Uncle Al" for a few weeks in the first place, I'll never know.

She's already an expert at snappy comebacks. Her kindergarten teacher recently told me that one day in class, my daughter seemed intent on staring and picking at a spot on the carpet where they were all seated for story time. When said teacher questioned whether or not she was paying attention, my daughter responded, "Heck no!" and then smiled sweetly at her. Not only that, she reads and works with numbers at a year beyond her level. Smart, and a smart-ass! Oi! What nobody ever tells you is how much you'll love that little creep, especially when they're bad. If you don't have a kid, you just don't know what the Hell this means.

There's one other thing nobody mentions. What do you do if your kid begins complaining about the very same experiences you had as a child; those things you've now come to believe are alien involvement? Nobody tells you how to handle that, either.

After freaking, getting drunk, going into heavy denial, sitting at her bedroom door all night with a bat, making deals with the Almighty, offering her to the aliens and giving up, and then doing all those things simultaneously, you try a new approach. If you have an ounce of sense, and if you've heard her say things you simply can't deny any longer, you swear yourself to secrecy - and you slowly cook. If you ever thought this subject was difficult as a single or married individual, try it on as a parent. Have it happen to someone you'd throw yourself in front of a truck for.

Here's how it began for me.

About two years ago I walked into my child's room to get a pair of underwear out of her drawer. As all married men know, you have to take drawer space where you find it -- and I consider myself extremely lucky I don't yet have to get dressed outside.

Anyway, my baby was lying on her back, her hands across her tummy. She had four or five dolls set out along side her, in exactly the same position, all lined up. I asked, "C? What are you doing?" 

C: "I'm not here, daddy." 

Me: "What do you mean? Where are you?" 

C: "Well, I'm here now, but I wasn't."
Me: "What do you mean?"
C: "Last night the little monsters came and took me up in their
airplane. A little doctor put a silver stick on my tummy...right
here."

I quietly freaked. I don't need to mention that I have never discussed abduction, nor had I allowed her to watch regular TV. I immediately left so she wouldn't sense my nervousness - and smoked about a half a pack of cigarettes in the bathroom before I regained composure. Later, I checked her in the tub. She had three "burn-like" marks forming a perfect triangle on the inside of her left forearm.

Since then, there have been many, many marks, and many odd dreams and occurrences. We check the closet, look under the bed, close the shades, check under the covers, etc., as part of a little ritual at night. We also have discussions on whether "something can come in through a closed window." (She, of course, initiates that one.)

One night I heard her call me. For whatever reason, I went back to sleep...something I would never, ever do. The next morning she complained of a terrible nightmare in which she was "chased by a star and struck by lightening." There was no mention of little monsters. I again looked carefully at her while she was in the tub. She had two perfect triangles on her left hip, and they encompassed a space six to eight inches long. They formed the same kind of triangle, but had the points touching; the top triangle pointing down, the bottom pointing up, forming a 'butterfly' pattern. Huh.

We all try not to exaggerate a child's injuries, especially in front of them. The last thing we want is a wus of a kid, moaning and shrieking with each nick or scrape - the constant 'pea under the mattress syndrome.' But what is the proper reaction to a complaint of alien abduction -- especially if you believe you've gone through the same thing yourself? Is there a sane response? Really?!

There is precious little out there in the way of advice, especially if you don't particularly want to give your baby away to the state after admitting the problem to the 'wrong person.'

Budd Hopkins lists advice on his web site. http://www.intrudersfoundation.org ...

And by the way, Hopkins never recommends hypnosis on a child. I have a video tape of a conference lecture he did on the subject that proves it. (I believe it's still available on his site.)

David Jacobs does the same at http://www.ufoabduction.com/

Generally speaking, they both seem to recommend the following, with the caveat that nothing can replace a good therapist.

1. Children up to about 10 years can recall some of this. Sometimearound that age or soon before or thereafter, they have amnesia orno recall, which is a sort of a good thing.

2. Empathy, validation, reassurance, anything to make them feel 'safe' should be offered. Example: "I can see where that would be scary"-- "Yes, it probably did look like a star" -- "Sure I will check the closet and the wall to be sure there are no monsters or mice there." Never tell them that is not possible or that they are imagining or lying, Never. Validate their words.

3. No hypnosis on research with children should ever be done.

4. Under no circumstances tell them about abduction or aliens, in general or relative to your experiences or especially in regard to themselves. Do not explain the adult reality of the events. It will do more harm than good.

My advice? Well, my Mom told me I'd been dreaming and to finish my milk. I've never used that myself, but then again, I guess I turned out ok (although some of you may question that.)

I guess the best you can do is "be there," hard as that may be. Life forces weird decisions. Whether they have a bad day in ballet class, fall off the bike, or are abducted by aliens, I try to provide a calming presence by simply standing there with a calm, dumb look on my face -- ready to hug if need be. Children confuse this with something positive. Hell, it worked for my Dad for nearly 79 years. If I'm doing the wrong thing, time and my baby will tell me.

P.S.

Ironically, as I wrote this, I received a letter from a woman who is a member of a list to which I belong.  She has reason to believe her daughter is experiencing the same damn thing.  In her words, she's sitting by the computer, "shaking and crying."  As I try to
encourage her, I reflect on the insanity of this stuff...and my own feelings of terror for my child. 

One thing seems to be true. There's no help on the horizon.  We're stuck with it.  We're on our own.  We have to make do.  We don't have any other choice but to fall apart in front of our children.