Friday, October 8, 2010
Being part of our family is not for the faint hearted. We tend to tease hard, and have wicked senses of humor. I am saying this to prepare you for the story I am about to share. So you will understand. Maybe.
Wretch hates dolls with evil stares, especially troll dolls. The kind with the mohair fuzz on the head and bug eyed stare. They were popular when I was a kid and still turn up every now and then. I was gifted with one dressed in black for my 40th birthday and with another of the ugly little buggers dressed like a nurse when I graduated from nursing school.
Wretched Daughter, my youngest, (I'll explain her nickname another day) hates those trolls with a passion, and with good reason.
One night, many years ago when she was a young girl, I was reading in bed and Steve was on the couch watching TV. All of a sudden Wretch came ripping through the house (I could hear her feet pounding the floor as she headed to me) and rushed into my room hollering.
me: no honey, it didn't.
Wretch: YES IT DID! It was turned one way and when I looked up it had moved and was facing me.
(The doll was located on her dresser or thereabout.) I talked to her for several minutes and convinced her that it was her imagination. This was back during a time in her life when I still had a little influence over what she thought and did. She finally headed back to her room, calmer than when she had entered my room.
About 30 seconds later, Wretch came running and SCREAMING through the house. She flew into my bedroom again and jumped square in the middle of the bed, almost on top of me and screamed:
IT DID MOVE I TOLD YOU IT MOVED IT MOVED IT MOVED IT MOVED!!!!
me: (calmly so as not to feed her hysterics) I am sure you are wrong it couldn't have moved, let's go have a look. (She had insisted she was NOT going to go back to her room, so I was forced to action.)
We walked to her room, she still in hysterics, and when we got to her room, I saw the troll. It wasn't on the dresser.
It was sitting in the middle of the floor. Facing Wretch's bed.
She was convinced the doll was possessed. I knew something was up and about that time I looked around at Steve and saw him. Laughing. Not out loud but that silent laughter that makes you shake all over like you are having a seizure.
I said "STEVE you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" (By this time Wretch was crying as well as hysterical.) Steve had moved the doll the first time just a little bit, while she was in the bathroom, then when she came to tell me about it, he snuck in and moved it to the floor. And she had a meltdown.
It took me about an hour to get Wretch calmed down enough so that she could go to bed. Steve was unremorseful.
I didn't laugh until I knew Wretch was out of earshot and it was safe.
Steve still tells the troll story.