On Saturday night, our family visited a haunted house and forest. I hate scary things. Do you see where this is going?
My kids had never seen me in a situation like this, although I have told them about the time that I sat in the car at a haunted house while my friends went in. When we pulled into the parking lot, I burst into tears because I was overwhelmed with fright. I was 25 years old.
I have always disliked scary stuff of any kind, but real life incidents involving a peeping Tom and an ex-boyfriend who stalked me made things worse. Now I have two dogs. And, two guns.
But, on Saturday I was in the middle of the dark woods and my guns were at home. Plus, this was a Boy Scout function and I’m pretty sure it’s extra illegal to shoot a Scout.
When people were emerging from piles of leaves or simply walking up quietly behind me so that when I looked over my shoulder to see the empty trail, but instead I saw a monster face practically sitting on my shoulder, my choices were to a) scream b) pee my pants c) begin yelling “small children” in order to get the goons to back off or d) all of the above.
Or, it’s possible I did all of those things and used my 11 year old daughter as a human shield, wherein I picked her up and held her out in front of me as if offering my child as a sacrifice to a zombie.