The picture of the day is a reenactment of actual events.
Boy6 was out window shopping for Birthday presents with his grandmother today. That left Boy9 and me in the house. Alone.
While I was handwashing the lunch dishes (because I really don’t want to have to pay for a new dishwasher), Boy9 snuck up on me. He’s been trying to sneak up on me for years. Years. But he’s about as sneaky as a tap dancing Fred Astaire. I can usually hear him coming from two rooms away. Kids don’t know how to breathe quietly. They sort of pant everywhere they go. And stumble over things. And knock things over. Kids are noisy.
Sometimes I’ll pretend to be scared, just to get him to stop sneaking, but not this time. This time, he managed to genuinely sneak up on me. There I was, clanking the dishes around and trying to watch “Ray” on TV, when I felt someone tap my shoulder. Now normally he doesn’t reach up high to tap my shoulder. Normally he grabs my arm or something. But no. This time, it’s a tap on the shoulder. And for a moment, it felt like someone tall was standing behind me. And since Darling Husband wasn’t home, who was tapping my shoulder?! It’s the hammer wielding hobo!!
And before I even turned around, I let loose the loudest, longest scream I’ve ever screamed. Even after the dishrag was flung across the room and I whirled around to see that it was just pajama clad Boy9, I couldn’t stop screaming. It went on and on. At which point, Boy9’s eyes widened and he started screaming, too. And we both stood there screaming at each other forever. And then we both gasped and panted for a bit.
Boy9 squeaked out, “You scared me!”
I said, “Well that’s what you get for scaring me!”
“I really scared you?”
“Cool!” With a big grin.