I don’t normally write two entires in one day. I realize that all of you are so insanely impressed with my witty story telling abilities and my astute observations that reading two entries in a single day could very well strike you blind with joy for having read such awesomeness.
But I will chance it. Because this was too good.
When I was a kid, my sister Laura used to hide in the damnedest places and scare the ever-living hell out of her younger sisters as they walked past. She once stood on the vanity in the bathroom and jumped out at Amy as she walked in to the room. Good thing Amy was in the bathroom already, if you catch my drift. Once, long before Mom and Dad put the addition on the house on Casa Solana Drive, Laura was standing on the kitchen counter the opposite side of the refrigerator as I walked in. I think it’s possible that I let out a scream so high-pitched, the neighborhood dogs started howling.
Naturally, as someone who was scared near to death as a child by someone spooking me, it seems only right for me to pass this on to my own children. And looky here — I happen to have a 7-year-old. Perfect.
A few weeks ago, I got him. Man did I ever get him. He was in his room, reading (I know, could I be any more disappointed?). And I snuck in, almost to the side of the bed, before yelling out…..
“HANK WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I knew the moment I did it there were two possible outcomes. He would either burst into tears, or he would laugh like he just found a candy fountain in the shower. Thank the Lord, it was the latter.
Then my boy did something I did not expect. He waited. Several days later, coming out of my bathroom at about 8 p.m., I snapped off the light and walked into the dark, when all of a sudden:
It was so quiet and so sudden and he was RIGHT there. You better believe I screamed. I was impressed, but not convinced that this was an endeavor he wanted to start on.
So today, I was looking at my computer (this one right here), leaning over the kitchen counter where it was plugged in charging. When suddenly…
He even touched me.
I absolutely yelped.
Naturally, I gave chase. Around the kitchen, around the dining room, up the stairs, to his room, back downstairs and past the sofa where George had fallen asleep, but was now rubbing his eyes, likely scared by his mother’s screams. I finally caught him. I looked into those eyes, MY eyes, looking right back at me. My resolve was strong. I pointed my finger directly into that little boy’s face.
“It’s on,” I said, sternly.
He did not hesitate.
“Like Donkey Kong,” he stated, unflinching.
And so it begins. My son and I, as long as we roam this here earth, will forever be engaged in a game of “Who can scare the crap out of the other one.”
It. Is. On.