A nervous twitch brought upon by my penchant for hiding around corners and jumping out in an attempt to scare the bejesus out of them.
I get the most Sadistic thrill out of this.
I know, I am EVIL.
But then every now and again I am reminded that one good turn deserves another.
It's been noted before that The Boy ... umm... prefers my company.
This day, as he does every day, he follows me downstairs for the millionth time.
Bored of the Lets-Shadow-Mommy-Everywhere-She-Goes Game I decide to shake things up a bit. I have enough of a head start to reach the bottom of the stairs first and partake of a little Hide 'N
I find the perfect spot. Under the desk. In the darkened office.
I giggle to myself as I take my spot and imagine his face as he comes into the office to look for me when I suddenly lunge at him from beneath his father's desk.
And yet, I giggle to myself. Giggle with the uncontrollable giddiness of a catholic school girl in church.
This is gonna be good.
The Boy reaches the bottom of the steps.
I can feel my excitement bubbling up.
He walks towards the office door.
My heart races, my stomach tenses. I try to stifle my giggles.
He'll never suspect.
15 minutes later, I am still under the desk. Stiff neck. Sore knees. Aching back. No longer giggling.
The Boy, having been sucked into the mesmerizing glow of the boob tube and whisked away to Bikini Bottom has forgotten the whole reason why he had followed me downstairs in the first place leaving me crouched under a desk, in the dark, like a loser.
An sad, pathetic, instant-karma's-gonna-get-you LOOZ-AH.