When the twins were about 10 months old, my parents and I took them to a family friend's cabin. The layout of the cabin is that there is one bedroom tucked into the back (no door) and an open space with a loft. My parents were staying in the large open space on the ground floor and the boys and I were in the back bedroom. It was about two in the morning when I woke up to hear this really loud swooshing sound and felt a brisk breeze: like an eagle with the wingspan of a 747 was flying directly over me, then I heard my parents bumping around in the main room so I went to check what was going on. I rounded the corner and ran into my mom wearing a raincoat with a hood over her pajamas and carrying a pillowcase. I looked around her to my dad who was standing there in his pajamas and gardening gloves, wielding a humongous old-fashioned snowshoe. Apparently, there was a bat in the cabin and they were trying to...I don't know...entertain it by performing a skit? Their costumes and props certainly had me laughing. Just to be sure you understand though: there was a bat. Inside the cabin. *shudders*
Another scary vacation with my parents story took place in a different city. The twins were now about 18-months old. We were staying with friends of my parents in a house with two guest bedrooms. The people that owned the house had grandchildren about the same age as my kids and therefore had lots of fun toys. I was going through a stage where I read nothing but thrillers. Anything involving a serial killer and some psychological trickery was my very favourite thing to read. It was our first night there and we were all exhausted. Keeping two toddlers entertained on a long car trip was not easy, so we had all crashed pretty early. Suddenly I woke up to this disembodied voice saying "Do you want to play?" and "Let's talk." Perfectly innocent phrases, WHEN IT'S NOT THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. I ran into my parents room (because I was only 26 and that's what you do when you're scared in the night, right?), to wake them up and make sure the serial killer in the house was not going to attack us. My mom (who does not read thrillers) got up and went downstairs to check on the noise. She found a toy phone that somehow got stuck on play and would not turn off. She wrapped it in a blanket and threw it in the dryer. It took me a very long time to get back to sleep.
To sum up: I am afraid of bats with the wing span of a 747 and toy phones that trick you into thinking they're serial killers.