Bedtime Stories are Priceless, Nightmares are Free

It was a dark and stormy night. The power was out and the kids wanted to snuggle under the blankets all huddled together. It doesn't get any better than that. To me this was the ultimate family bonding time. The stage was set for one of my favorite family pastimes: the scary story.

I had them eating out of my hand. They asked me to tell them a scary story. I graciously declined telling them that they would never go to bed again because they would be too scared. This only encouraged them as I suspected it would, and they went into the begging mode. I again turned them down and told them that I would tell them a story that they could handle, and then went into a short story about siblings with names not resembling our kid's but mysteriously sounding quite similar to familiar family circumstances ending with a pertinent moral. This only made them more impatient and desperate to hear a scary story. I finally consented.

This was going to be good. I started out slowly building upon elements that always conjures up vivid images, but nothing by itself would be considered inherently terrifying. Just subtle sounds of the wind, branches in the breeze, motion sensor lights coming on for no apparent reason, indistinguishable images in the distant, and the coup de force: the naive parent (me) who goes out with a fading flashlight to check out what was behind the chicken coop. (you know all of the creepy nasty things always hide behind the chicken coop). Just as my adventure took me to the corner of the coop, Jenny sneaked into the room and touched the back of a couple of kids while simultaneously letting out a blood curdling scream (A nice touch-no pun intended- I might add). The effect was even greater than I had expected, the youngest was in tears, the next oldest wouldn't come out from under the blankets, and the two others refused to leave the room. They eventually, but reluctantly, all went to their rooms. Jenny worked hard to console each one as I kicked back restfully in bed. She couldn't figure out why I could be so calm after causing so much stress. I simply said, "don't blame me, I warned them that they would end up like this, plus I think it was the screaming that put them over the edge."

See, I also know one other thing, that Jenny sometimes forgets. This whole episode follows the same sequence every time. First they ask, and then they beg, and then I consent, and then they get scared. By the next day they are begging me again to tell a new scary story, and so I comply.

What else can I do? At least it keeps the kids from playing out back on a cold and dark rainy night and then tracking mud in the house.