My little brother did something that creeps me out to this day.
He was around 3 when it happened. My mom called me from my room to grab her a towel so that she could keep an eye on both of my little brothers that were playing in the tub. I had grabbed the towel and was just walking into the bathroom when my three year old brother, who normally had that adorable broken little kid speech suddenly sat up straight in the tub, cocked his head and said in the most serious pronunciated voice “look mom, I can’t die!”. He had crossed his arms over his chest and slid underwater. It took a second for me and my mom to react, but she pulled him out pretty quick. He had inhaled a bunch of water and was crying, but he was ok.
So fast-forward a couple of years, we were replacing the trim in my little brothers’ room that was adjacent to the bathroom. We were tearing down the trim in their closet that adjoined to my parents room, and we found an old penciled height chart on the wall where the trim was. There was only one kid named “Alan”, and the height chart stopped at the age of five. The old lady that had owned the house before us had sold it to us so she could help take care of her husband in an assisted living home. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that they were the first owners of the house and had never had kids. So we did some some research, and (thanks to the public library’s amazing newspaper archive) found an article from the 1950’s stating that the old couple had, indeed, had a kid. He had drowned in the tub in the same bathroom my little brother had his episode in. The conclusion in the paper followed somewhere along the lines that his mom wasn’t supervising him in the bathroom when he had stood up in the tub, slipped, and hit his head His name was Alan. I refused to even go in my parents bathroom after that