Dear AMC,

My Facebook Newsfeed is flooded with articles and posts about your show, The Walking Dead, on Sunday nights and Monday mornings. One can only assume these people who religiously watch this show are not parents of young children. When my husband and I were binge watching episodes on Netflix over a year ago, not only was I spending the first hour in my bed at night sleeplessly pondering our escape plan and survival supply needs in the event of a similar societal demise, but I’d have absolute panic attacks in the middle of the night if I brushed up against my own cold, limp arm that had fallen asleep.

I must admit, for years I’ve contemplated trading sides of the bed with my husband so he’s the one closest to the bedroom door in the event of an intruder, a zombie, or now, in our case, our heavy-breathing three-year-old who frequently wanders into our bedroom in the middle of the night either loudly[satanically] whispering his need or stealthily climbing into bed with us. Sometimes he even just stands there at the side of the bed staring at me as if waiting to be activated and engaged by an outside stimulus. The other day my son wanted my help to make a booby-trap (I don’t know…he’s been on a Jake and the Neverland Pirates kick lately). All I could think of is what kind of booby-trap I could make to use against him in the middle of the night so I could be alerted to his impending visit before his face is an inch from mine and he’s strongly whispering “I NEED MY PACI.”

I am sad to inform you that I can no longer be a follower of your show. There’s just only so much bedwetting I can handle in the middle of the night.


A Real Life Mombie