Bloody Mary

Take it easy, if you're thinking tomato juice and celery with a touch of pepper I'm sorry to disappoint you. We're dealing with my kids here ages 10, 8, and 5. For those of you that haven't heard the old wives tale, if you go into a dark bathroom and spin around three times chanting "Bloody Mary" after the third time you are supposed to look in the mirror and see the face of the ghost of 'Bloody Mary' pointing at you and saying "you're next!". Or at least that is the version my 10 year old brought home from school with him and recounted to the brothers grim.

So inspiring was his recollection that all bounded upstairs to test their mettle and the merit of the story. This, of course, transpired without my knowledge. The 8 year old showed his courage and undertook the task at hand, hoping nothing would happen but not entirely sure, what he did know, if he came out of it alive, was that bragging rights would be secured and a notch added to his belt. He lived.

But what has now happened is that there is a chance that something my be lurking in their bathroom, and hey, they dodged fate once, they weren't about to try it again, especially now that the weight of 'Bloody Mary' had settled in.

I had noticed the hushed tones and figured something was up, I'm sharp like that, but also noticed it was bedtime. The Nuggets were playing well in the third quarter so I told them all to brush their teeth and head for bed. Back to the Nuggets for me. I zoned out for about 20 minutes and then became aware of the fact that they were all huddled at the top of the stairs trying to figure out who would turn the lights on in the bathroom. "What is going on? I told you to get to bed." "Dad, can you turn on the bathroom lights?" "Are you kidding me?" Then they all three gushed out the story and how dangerous it could be for a kid to take the chance of turning on the lights. You probably feel compassion for the little tykes. Being father of the year, I got up and started making chicken sounds and flapping my wings, pecking and clucking all the way upstairs, usually chicken sounds is a quick way to start a fight between them but they all laughed and were relieved to see that good old dad, although making fun of them, would turn on the bathroom lights.

I wasn't finished, half way up the stairs I came up with another idea of sheer genius, it happens to me a lot it seems like, others may not agree. I remembered the ghost tour at the Stanley Hotel that my wife, her sister, and her sister's husband had went on in October. Sidebar, we went to the Stanley, as my wife is a paranormal junkie, to find ghosts. It was put on by a group that has a show on A&E that she loves. We got there and mingled in the lobby and the people from the show started to show up, and it was intoxicating to her, or maybe it was the wine. Either way she was ready to see a ghost. I noticed in the ballroom off the lobby that there was a stage that had curtains and told her sister I should hide behind them and make them move. Her sister said absolutely. So I did and she brought my wife in, she saw the curtains and couldn't believe it, no way. She told my sister-in-laws husband to go investigate, so he did, but as he got to the curtains he acted like something grabbed him and she freaked, until she figured it out, then was pissed. We all laughed and laughed. But I digress.

I decided to use the phantom grab job on the boys. As I reach in the bathroom I scream and get dragged in then pop back out laughing. They were not laughing, one had stumbled backwards and landed on his rump, speechless, and the other two screamed and started crying. Nice work Dad. I tell them I was just joking and the 10 year old and 5 year old accept it in a state of shock while the 8 year old hides behind the door screaming at me. I try to coax him out, apologizing the whole time, then he comes out swinging and screaming, OK, I deserve that, but his fury makes me laugh a little and this sends him into a frenzy. After I defend myself for a good 3 minutes it starts to subside, I ask again for forgiveness and am rejected. They finally make it to bed, and actually go to sleep surprisingly.

After all that I thought, you know, I could use a good Bloody Mary.



P.S. The 8 year old did forgive me, in the morning, kids are the best.