The singing child

I haven't had a story to tell in so long. Sometimes I really miss ghostly happenings, but then I remember what it was really like. I just don't like the idea of somebody in my home that I can't see. I mean, what if they watch you in some of your more personal moments. I would, if I were a ghost.

The point of this little rant is just to clarify that my stories are all rather old, and that I may tell them out of order. For instance, this following account is not my most recent experience, nor was it my first. It was just one if my favorites, that's all.

Now some years ago I lived in an apartment that was, all things taken into account, pretty much haunted. Back then, my daughter was still pretty tiny and I kept her in bed with me (actually, she wouldn't sleep in her room, but that is another story). Now, one night I woke up to the sound of a child singing from outside my room. Cute. A little strange, but cute. I however, immediately freaked out thinking my child had woken up, crawled over me, left the room, and was now singing all by herself. This was scary to me, because I immediately thought, "Oh God! I didn't even notice! What if this has happened before? What if it happens again? She could end up hurt!" No, those weren't my exact thoughts. I was too panicked for rational thought, at all. In a panic, I reached over beside me and realized, my daughter was right there, sleeping soundly.
The singing continued. At this point, I began to wonder if I had left the TV on. I distinctly remembered turning it off, but I knew that there was the possibility. Now, the singing reall sounded like it was coming from the hall outside my door, not downstairs. But I was tired, and didn't feel like checking the matter, so I let myself fall back to sleep still with a child's singing going on outside my room.
In the morning I found that the TV was, indeed, off.
I recounted this story to a neighbor, only to be informed that I should talk to the previous resident. I did, and she told me a story.
One night, having tired of her son's infatuation wit a bouncy ball, she took it away and put it in her drawer. Many hours later, she woke to the sound of a ball being bounced outside her door. Certain that her son had gotten up and filched said ball from her door, she left her room intent on doing some good, old-fashioned parenting -- only to discover her son sound asleep in his own bed. Thinking she had imagined the whole thing, she went back to bed. That's when she heard the sound of the ball rolling down the stairs (these stairs were plastic coated, not carpeted). A little freaked out, she went back to sleep. In the morning she found the ball on the kitchen floor.

That is the story of the child-ghost who lived in my apartment. Someday i will tell you about "the man who loved to stomp up-and-down my stairs", and "the freaky man who liked to watch my daughter in her room".
Yikes!