Bad Karma

One of my favorite things to do is to scare my children when they have the hiccups. As soon as I hear the faint tiny burping sound come from their precious little bodies I rub my hands together and smile, my mind already at work on my plan of attack. Then, when they least expect it, I do my best Large Marge impression and yell, "BOO!" They shriek, I laugh, and the hiccups flee.

For years, the scare tactic has worked much better than the standard drinking-a-glass-of-water-without-coming-up-for-breath method. But lately, I've not been able to cure anyone of their hiccups. Mostly, I've just managed to annoy, inspiring such phrases as "Mu-ther, cut it out." Or, "I hate it when you do that." So the other day, when Paul, my eleven-year-old, came down with the hiccups, I knew I had to do add something unexpected to my usual routine. I decided I would hide in Paul's closet, then leap from the t-shirts yelling something frightening, like, "Clean up your room!" 

It didn't take long for Paul to come searching for me. With his father busy downstairs on the computer and his brothers fighting over the Wii, there was nothing left for him to do but come looking for his mother. When I heard his footsteps on the stairs, I stepped into the closet. Now, you need to know there are no doors on the thing at the moment, so it wasn't like I was hiding in a dark pit and Paul would have to search for me. But the closet is deep, with plenty of room for an adult to stand in it without being detected right away. Paul called out, "Mom? Mom? where are you?" he hiccuped as he said it. I had to cover my mouth with my hands to contain my giggles. It was like waiting for Paul to turn the handle of the jack-in-the-box so I could spring out and scare the socks off him.

Paul walked into my bedroom. "MOM?" he said again, hiccuping. I could hear some concern in his voice, like he thought I actually skipped town as I sometimes threaten to do. "Look in your own room," I willed him in my mind. He must have had the same thought, because his footsteps were getting closer. He stood in the doorway, asking one more time, "Mom?" I could just barely see his hand clutching an orange plastic cup from my hiding place. He took a swig from the cup and stepped closer to the closet. It was time for action. 

I jumped out and hollered "Ah-hah!" Paul screamed, then instinctively threw the contents of his cup in my face, which, luckily he had just drained. But still, there were quite a few drops left in the bottom, enough to cover me in a small rain shower of Paul spittle. This was unfortunate, considering Paul had been home sick for the last two days. "You scared me," Paul said in a voice filled with fright, tinged at the edges with hurt and accusation. I hugged him. "Maybe so," I said. "But your hiccups are gone, right?" And so they were. Yet for some reason, Paul didn't thank me for curing him. Instead he skulked off, taking the cat with him.

A couple mornings later, my throat felt dry and hot. "It's like the Sahara Desert in my mouth," I told my husband as I lay groaning in bed, trying to swallow. I might as well have been drinking sand for how scratchy it was in there. It was official: I was sick. And I knew how it must have happened: Me, in the closet, Paul raining on my parade with viral drops of fear.  

Paul wandered into the room at that moment and looked me over. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. 

"I'm sick," I answered. "And you know why? You threw your germs on me when I scared the hiccups out of you." 

Paul laughed. I had expected sympathy, perhaps even an offer to make me breakfast in bed as I did for them when they're sick. But, no. In his eyes I could not see concern, only the hard glint of revenge. "Well, that's karma for you," he said. 

I didn't know Paul even knew what karma was, let alone how to wield it against me. "That's the last time I cure you of the hiccups," I said. But he was already gone.  

Comments

[Nicole]

Thanks for the Pee-Wee link. That was a blast from the past--I was obsessed with that movie in Jr. High. I had the whole stupid thing memorized.

[shelby]

HA! Sorry you are sick, but that is one entertaining story of how you got it. Much better than the "I went grocery shopping and used the same cart that some sick dude just used" story. I did NOT, for your info, click on and/or watch the video clip of Large Marge. I NEVER liked that part of the Pee-Wee movie and I am not ashamed to admit I get so so so scared very very easily! :)

[michelle]

I have never tried the scare tactic... but I will! Thanks for that post. That was funny!

[MaryB]

I can totally picture that whole scene! I do stuff like that to my kids too!(I'm sorry you got sick, though). Maybe watching all of the Pee-Wee Herman movie will make you feel better. (Watching the clip also made me realize that I think SpongeBob Square Pants may have been designed in relation to Pee-Wee Herman...hmmm...?)
Hope you feel better soon!

[chizuko]

Large Merge, I am watching it at 2:24a.m. Oh, scary. I have to go to bed!!!

I want to hear you are called MOM from your sons.

Enjoy your mommy hood.
Chizuko