I live for moments where I can scare my kids.
It's true.
Sometimes I spend whole Sunday afternoons plotting. Thinking of masterful ways in which I can terrorize them. Part of me does it because I'm seeking revenge for all the sleepless nights and non-stop sibling fights.
But most of me does it because I just like to scare the crap out of people, and I can only get away with it with my kids.
Sick and twisted, probably. I reckon I come by it pretty honest though.
My parents liked to scare us kids when we were little.
Dad frequently threatened to eat us. He would sit at the kitchen table spouting off "how to cook your kid" recipes. Mom would pre-heat the oven, then dad would ask for Ketchup. Things got intense.
My dad's most favorite thing to do was take an old paper grocery bag, cut a scary face out of it, put it on his head, and march around the house singing the "Owee Ohhh" song from the Wizard of Oz.
My sisters and I knew it was my dad, but we were still horrified by this. We would beg for him to do it, and then we run around screaming in terror...near wet your pants type of scared. I would end up hiding under my bed, completely mortified, waiting for that scary paper bag face to find me.
All of that seems trivial though when compared to the Halloween where my parents basically almost caused me to have a child hood cardiac arrest.
It was in the early 80s, I'm not sure if Lydia was born yet or not...I'm going to say no? So, I had to be under seven years old. That Halloween night was perfect, it was ideal trick or treating conditions. Wasn't too cold, wasn't raining, and it was extra dark. No full moon even.
When we had returned home from trick or treating my parents said, "Why don't we walk around the house and see if we can find any ghosts."
Katey and I were game.
Then mom said, "I just need to run inside and go to the bathroom."
Dad said, "Well, I'll just start out with the kids, you meet up with us."
Katey and I were blissfully unaware of their subterfuge.
I remember rounding the corner of our house, heading past the white fence, and nearing the great big pine tree that flanked the north side of my bedroom. I also vaguely remember my dad saying, "Huh, what is that."
I don't even know if I saw anything, I think I did. I think I saw a white ghost.
Before my dad could even rationalize what we were seeing, Katey and I were GONE.
Lightening bolts and flames flew from our shoes.
We were running.
We were crying.
I think we might have fallen down.
My dad didn't even have enough time to say, "Hey, wait. It's okay."
Because we were out of there.
When Katey and I got to the front door of the house (which was only about 30 feet away), we couldn't even open it.
We were throwing ourselves against it. Trying our hardest to open that door. Blinded by tears and out of breath from the heart attacks we were having.
Pretty soon here came my parents.
My mom was holding a white sheet and my dad had his flashlight.
They weren't even laughing (well, maybe a little).
They felt so bad about scaring us like that.
Here they thought that it would be a fun prank. Little did they know that their children were such scaredy cats.
Katey and I shook and cried for an hour.
I remember thinking, "What kind of people are you?" and glaring at my parents.
That didn't stop me from wanting some hugs though.
To this day my mom feels bad about it, I think dad does too. They laugh now, probably more than they did then.
Will I ever scare someone as badly as my parents scared us? I doubt it.
I can only dream.
Sobs. Hysterical sobs.
It's true.
Sometimes I spend whole Sunday afternoons plotting. Thinking of masterful ways in which I can terrorize them. Part of me does it because I'm seeking revenge for all the sleepless nights and non-stop sibling fights.
But most of me does it because I just like to scare the crap out of people, and I can only get away with it with my kids.
Sick and twisted, probably. I reckon I come by it pretty honest though.
My parents liked to scare us kids when we were little.
Dad frequently threatened to eat us. He would sit at the kitchen table spouting off "how to cook your kid" recipes. Mom would pre-heat the oven, then dad would ask for Ketchup. Things got intense.
My dad's most favorite thing to do was take an old paper grocery bag, cut a scary face out of it, put it on his head, and march around the house singing the "Owee Ohhh" song from the Wizard of Oz.
My sisters and I knew it was my dad, but we were still horrified by this. We would beg for him to do it, and then we run around screaming in terror...near wet your pants type of scared. I would end up hiding under my bed, completely mortified, waiting for that scary paper bag face to find me.
All of that seems trivial though when compared to the Halloween where my parents basically almost caused me to have a child hood cardiac arrest.
It was in the early 80s, I'm not sure if Lydia was born yet or not...I'm going to say no? So, I had to be under seven years old. That Halloween night was perfect, it was ideal trick or treating conditions. Wasn't too cold, wasn't raining, and it was extra dark. No full moon even.
When we had returned home from trick or treating my parents said, "Why don't we walk around the house and see if we can find any ghosts."
Katey and I were game.
Then mom said, "I just need to run inside and go to the bathroom."
Dad said, "Well, I'll just start out with the kids, you meet up with us."
Katey and I were blissfully unaware of their subterfuge.
I remember rounding the corner of our house, heading past the white fence, and nearing the great big pine tree that flanked the north side of my bedroom. I also vaguely remember my dad saying, "Huh, what is that."
I don't even know if I saw anything, I think I did. I think I saw a white ghost.
Before my dad could even rationalize what we were seeing, Katey and I were GONE.
Lightening bolts and flames flew from our shoes.
We were running.
We were crying.
I think we might have fallen down.
My dad didn't even have enough time to say, "Hey, wait. It's okay."
Because we were out of there.
When Katey and I got to the front door of the house (which was only about 30 feet away), we couldn't even open it.
We were throwing ourselves against it. Trying our hardest to open that door. Blinded by tears and out of breath from the heart attacks we were having.
Pretty soon here came my parents.
My mom was holding a white sheet and my dad had his flashlight.
They weren't even laughing (well, maybe a little).
They felt so bad about scaring us like that.
Here they thought that it would be a fun prank. Little did they know that their children were such scaredy cats.
Katey and I shook and cried for an hour.
I remember thinking, "What kind of people are you?" and glaring at my parents.
That didn't stop me from wanting some hugs though.
To this day my mom feels bad about it, I think dad does too. They laugh now, probably more than they did then.
Will I ever scare someone as badly as my parents scared us? I doubt it.
I can only dream.
Sobs. Hysterical sobs.
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