Confession time: Little kids freak me out.
Not my own kids! My kids are not freaky at all. But scary kids, like in movies? I can’t stand them. I don’t know why, but a creepy little person is 100 times scarier to me than a zombie, a serial killer, a ghost, or even a snake.
It might be the whole can’t-defend-yourself-because-you-don’t-want-to-hurt-a-kid thing. I’m not sure. (Also, I could totally kick a kid’s ass if I had to. Don’t test me.)
Anyway, it’s rainy and yucky outside and some little shits have been prank calling me all day.
I’ve tried to laugh it off. Ha ha! Little bastards.
Them: What do you call a scary dream about a horse?
Me: *confused* What?
Them: A NIGHTMARE! HAhahahaha, heehehehehe, hahahaha. (Maniacal child laughter. There had to be at least 10 of them.)
Me: *still a bit confused* WHAT??
Me: *shakes head* Ha, silly kids, just having fun, ha ha ha.
*staring at phone* OH MY GOD THEY SAID NIGHTMARE.
*still staring at phone* Don’t be silly, just kids, ha-ha.
*looking for weapon* ARE THE DOORS LOCKED? OH, SHIT. I hate kids.*
A little later…
THEM: *In a freakishly terrifying and childish voice* Can I sing you a song?
Me: What? No. NO. Who. Is. This?!
Them: We just want to make your day! Wanna hear a song?
So there you have it. I have barricaded us in the house and no one is allowed to answer the phone. The only way this could get worse is if they called and asked if I was in the house alone. WHICH I’M NOT.
And now I’ve scared myself. Awesome.