I grew up in a family that loved to scare each other.

My favorite target was my young cousin. God forbid one of us got up to use the bathroom. More often than not, the other was hiding around the corner to scream “Boo!” every chance we got. It was terrifying and hilarious! As adults, she came to visit me and we drove my roommate crazy with our random and plentiful “Boos” throughout the weekend. We were trying to get as many in as we possibly could in the short time we had left.

One time I was digging around my laundry basket when a family member quietly walked up behind me wearing the ugliest plastic gorilla mask imaginable and waited for me to turn around. I didn’t scream because I was so scared. I just remember the immediate numbness that spread through my body and I just burst into tears. That was a good one.

Another time, we had a Batman piñata that stood about 3 foot tall. I placed it on my sister’s bed making it look like a full sized man that was silhouetted against the moon lit window. I stepped back to admire my work and pranced out of the room like the Grinch and waited. I had all but forgotten about it when I heard the blood curdling scream from the bedroom. I almost felt bad about that one.

I married a man who had no tolerance for that tomfoolery. He doesn’t like rollercoasters either so I’m thinking there is a defective gene in there somewhere. I blamed it on his borderline high blood pressure but respected his preference. That continued even when we had kids. I’m not going to lie! I was just itchin’ to scare the ever-loving shit out of them but eventually, it just felt too mean because they were definitely NOT used to those kinds of shenanigans.

I can’t even count the number of times I envisioned jumping out on them but held it in. Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t end up with high blood pressure! Later, I was dying to Saran Wrap their doorway and yell for them to come out but hubby reminded me of their tempers. I tell ya, it was difficult repressing years of conditioning.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pulled out some black construction paper and taped them together to form a rectangle long enough to cut out the shape of Slenderman. I taped the silhouette in each of their bathrooms, behind the distorted glass shower doors, and waited:

I’m a terrible mother!

To say their response was anticlimactic is an understatement. One just moaned “Mooooom!” and the other very succinctly stated “THAT scared me” and, that was the end of it except that I have giggled myself stupid for years just thinking about it.

Little cousin, come visit!

Happy October!