Night of the Living Dead

So the missus is off in Brooklyn, at her friend's birthday party. I get the kids tucked in.  I'm watching TV in the bedroom - not my usual room at 9 PM, but when I'm a solo parent on the weekend, I like to be closer to the action if one of the kids needs something.  The TV is on low - volume clicker's on "5", mostly to make sure I don't wake up the kids. I roll to my left, to grab my glass of water from the nightstand.

And when I roll back, of the corner of my eye I see her. My daughter, standing there in the doorway.

Backlit. Perfectly still. 

I've no idea how long she's been standing there.  She made no sound opening her bedroom door, and there was no putter-patter of feet on the floor to announce her slink down the hallway. But she's not looking at me, she's looking through me.  And even though I've made what passes for eye contact, she's still completely blank. I call her name.  "Claire." Nothing.  "Claire!" Still no reaction.  And that's when my mid moves to the beginning of Dawn of the Dead. You know - that scene, with the little girl, the really creepy one...

The bit about hopping into bed and attacking only happens at 5 am. 
And instead of biting, he assault comes in he form of a mess of mucus and cold feet.

And that's when I notice.  She is naked from the waist down.

"Claire, do you need to go pottie?"  Still no reaction, but at least the creepy zombie attack vibe is waning. I grab her hand and walk her to the bathroom, where she unloads a quart of urine into the toilet. I re-fasten the  nighttime diaper she so hastily ripped off, get her pajama bottoms back on, and get her back into bed. 

And then I get the hell downstairs. You think I'm going to get another visit by Creepy Girl while I'm alone? No way.