Are you going to pay for my therapy?

Recently my daughter, Mariah, has developed a love for scary movies. Personally I do not like them, but she is 19 and as long as she watches them in her bedroom I don’t say a word.

The other night though, I decided to have some fun.

Mariah’s friend had come over for dinner, and they had rented 5 scary movies. Once dinner was done, and I had watched my shows in the living room, I retired to my bedroom for the evening, and they went to watch their movies in her bedroom.

After about an hour I tiptoed to the other end of the house where her bedroom is located and quietly listened at the door. I was waiting for “The Music.”

You know what kind of music I mean.

I stood there for several minutes until I heard it. Slowly I jiggled the handle and then burst through the door yelling and screaming like a mad woman.

We have two dogs, one dog, George, who is 11 years old, raised his head, sighed and lay back down. The other dog, Bo, who is 5 years old, and a recent addition to the family, jumped about a foot off the ground, tried to dart to the bathroom, but ran into the door casing instead. Rest assured Bo was not hurt.

My daughter and her friend started yelling, actually, screaming like little girls. I am warped just enough that I laughed until I almost wet myself. She looked at me, called me some unflattering names and screeched,

     “Are you crazy? What is wrong with you? Not cool mom, not cool!”

The following morning after she was up and had her cup of coffee, she looked at me and asked,

     “Are you going to pay for the therapy I will need for that little stunt you pulled last night?”

I started laughing all over again. Mariah just stood there glaring at me. No smile, no grin, just the glare. She walked out of the room, shaking her head in disbelief, mumbling about how crazy I really was. For me her reaction was fodder for the wild animal within.  I laughed on and off for most of the day.

By the afternoon, though, I started thinking about all the times that I felt my parents injured me with their warped humor. I thought about all the years I wasted being angry and acting like a small wounded child. It hurt me knowing I had wasted so much time and that I could not get that time back, time that I could have spent with them. I didn’t want that to happen with my daughter.

When Mariah came home later in the day I apologized. By then she had calmed down, she saw the humor and was laughing as well. She asked me why I was apologizing. I explained my reasons. Her response was simply,

     “No big deal mom.”

I called my parents, shared the story with them, and since we all are warped, we had a good laugh together.

Mariah has decided not to watch horror movies at home anymore. She thinks I am a bit too crazy and she’s not sure I won’t try that “stunt” again.

She was jumpy for a few days. Watching scary movies will do that!



  1. masodo

    December 20, 2012 at 1:28 pm

    Reminds me of a stunt I pulled once – Let’s just say I will never do it again. But that’s okay because that memory will last a lifetime.

    (scary movie – value added) nice one Misty!

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