Psychological Torture is a part of life.

When I was a kid... and my poor sister can attest to this... and I'm sure she will in the comments... I delighted in the psychological torture of my little sister. I like to think of it more as self preservation because she could beat the crap out of me... and she did... when she wanted. If I tried to hit her back, I'd be the one to get in trouble... so I just lay there like a slug until the beating was over. Psychological torment, on the other hand, can't really be proved. There are no outwardly visible bruises or bleeding. It's all in the mind... and often doesn't present the real damage until years later! heh heh heh... sorry.

Once, when my sister was little, we got china dolls for our birthdays. I told her a story about a haunted china doll who killed her whole family. Yes, I know... freaky and twisted... but it scared her so bad, she had to get up and go into the bathroom. Now comes the wonderful part of my master plan! The light to the bathroom was outside the door, so I crept up and turned off the light and threw her china doll in at her while she was on the pot! Shazaaaammmm!!!! She was sooooo freaked out, it was priceless!

There are many more instances like this, but the whole point of this post isn't to relive my glory days... ahhhh...... but to say I'm not the only one who did/ does this!

My little guy is afraid of warewolves- has been since he was very small. We've tried over and over again to convince him there is no such thing as a warewolf, but he doesn't believe us. My husband took him into his lap the other night after he'd had a bad dream, and very lovingly looked into his eyes and asked: "Do you trust me?" My son's tear swelled eyes looked back at him and shook his head "no"!

So, we assured him, once again, there are NO warewolves anywhere around, and sent him off to bed. I turned on some soft music for him to calm down to and I figured all would be well. Suddenly, I heard howling coming from some distant place in the house. It got louder and louder and I realized it was my husband- I could've killed him! Suddenly, from my son's bedroom I hear a soft voice say: "Mommy.... can you tell daddy to stop howling like a warewolf? He's scaring me!" Now, if that had been my sister, I wouldn't have stopped for anything- but such a tender, meek little voice, I stormed in and gave my husband that look... you know, the one that says "if you don't stop this right now you are going out and building yourself a dog house that you can live in for the rest of your life!"

Well, I had to admit the whole thing was quite funny- and my son did realize it wasn't a warewolf, but his dad, so maybe it helped a bit. I won't, however, be dousing myself with ketchup and laying on the kitchen floor with a knife any time soon. Oh, didn't I tell you about that? Well, I think I'd better not. The wounds are still a little too deep for my sister to dredge up again right now. It was a classic, though! Ahhh... the good ol days!