The Haunting

What kind of horrible mother lives to scare her children?  Me.  I do.  They never know when and where they will be walking innocently along and I will jump out and scare their pants off.  It brings me joy and sweet, sweet revenge.

A couple of days ago, I spiced things up and hid further in the house, so that as Morgan made his beeline to the bathroom after school, past my usual hiding place, I got him good.  His arms flailed around.  He later said that was his defensive karate stance and I was lucky he didn't accidentally hit me.  Ha!  I know flailing when I see it.

Yesterday, in the wee hours of the morning, I accidentally got him.  Heidi got up at 1:50 a.m., burning up with a fever and a sore throat.  I was taking care of her, when Morgan got up at 3:30 a.m. He had a hike planned for his school group and needed to be picked up by 5 a.m.  I think he was too keyed up and just decided to get ready instead of trying to go back to sleep.  I stood behind him and whispered, "Morgan.  What are you doing up?" Oh, the flailing!  If he could have run out through the window of our loft (on the second story) he would still be running.  

It turns out he'd been spending some time reading our book, "Ghost Stories of Washington".  I'm still kind of giggling about that.