When your kid likes to scare people
The best Halloween I can remember was the one where I not only dressed as, but truly embodied Maleficent. I sewed the whole outfit but it wasn’t my pride in the cape and headpiece that made it so fun.
It was sauntering regally through the neighborhood, disappearing completely behind such a powerful character. Mary no longer had to make small talk or get peppy for the neighbors she only saw once a year. In my brain, whatever I did or said wouldn’t be attributable to every day Mary.
Halloween is the one time Normies, and Freaks like me, can engage in cosplay without judgment. I relished twisting my ashen face into a scowl and locking eyes with little people who quickly scurried away. I was frightening. I loved the power it gave me.
Does your Spicy One like to scare people? What do you think makes it so pleasurable for them? I have my theories. The most obvious is that it meets our sensory seeking and dopamine needs. Fireworks go off in my brain when I impact someone enough to create an involuntary response (be that laughter or a scream) from their body. Scaring someone gives me the same high as creating or destroying something. Like I’m capable of magic.
There’s also a relational connection made when someone screams and then clings to you as they recover. Scaring each other is a legitimate form of play. Like Hide-N-Seek but with way bigger stakes.
My favorite use of the Find My Friends app is to see where all my Besties are located throughout the world. Look at Kelley in Ireland! But the other use is to stalk my son so I know when he’s pulled up in the driveway. As the Fall evenings get darker, he arrives around dusk. Like his mother, he will sit in the car for a few moments scrolling and texting his people. That’s when I spring into action.
I have a couple options. I can slip out the side door and crawl/run to the back of his car. Breathing heavy now, I creep up to his driver side door but the risk is high that he’ll see me in his mirror.
More often, I wait inside the kitchen. Silent. Like a jungle snake coiled to strike. He enters the home and sings out “Hello?!”. It takes all my self control not to rush in and hug him. But this way is more fun…for both of us. I breathe shallowly, crouched by the refrigerator. If he walks in the kitchen I scream, “Argggh!”. If I'm successful, he might swing his book bag at me out of defensive shock. I never said this was a safe hobby.
The most dependable scares happen in the mornings. He rises earlier than me - yes, one day your child may be able to get themselves ready without you! Absorbed in his 17 step skin routine, he’s usually in a trance staring at his reflection, bathroom door slightly ajar. I slink behind him, unnoticed. My wide eyes finding his in the mirror. Stationary like a statue, I wait. He’s singing to himself. Content. Safe.
When he sees me, he screams involuntarily. Dopamine hit unleashed!
I’m not a monster. I don’t do this to the Spicy One. It would create an argument. My Mild Child husband has forbidden me to scare him, something about a possible heart attack. My dad hasn’t vetoed it yet so I’ll get him this week when visiting home. I wouldnt dream of trying it on my Enneagram 8 Mother. I would get hit and screamed at. Not worth it.
If I have your consent, I would love to scare you.
Do they appreciate you surprising them? The majority of people following my Insta (67%) do not want to be scared by their loved one.
Rooting for you,
Mary