I’m the worst at telling scary stories. They’re really not very scary to begin with, and then I usually leave something important out and don’t mention it until the last minute: “Oh, and I forgot to mention, he had been dead for 30 years.” Fail. Anyway, let me tell you a scary story about our nighttime routine. I’m trying to break up the scary parts with some pictures of puppies from Pinterest so you don’t get too scared, okay?
So, one of Tyson’s favorite things to do is scare me. I don’t even think he can help himself, I’m sort of an easy target. All he really needs to do is say, “ghoooooosts,” and I’m clinging on to him like this:
(We do live in front of a cemetery…) Anyway, we usually start getting ready for bed at the same time, but he finishes first because he doesn’t need to wear make-up. While I’m removing said make-up, he will go and hide somewhere in our room, wait for me to come in, and then jump out making an “ahhh!” sound. I think the worst part is that I’m always expecting to be scared, so I’m already in fight or flight mode as I cautiously come into our room.
A few weeks ago, Tyson scared me by hiding under some blankets that were on our bed. He scared me, we laughed about it, and I went to the kitchen to get some water. When I came back into the room, there was a big bulge under the blankets, so obviously I thought Tyson was hiding in there again. I poked the blanket, and in that moment, he jumped out from behind the bed. I screamed, he nearly died laughing, and I may or may not have cried a little bit.
Unrelated, but still awesome: