I Scared Myself
aka: I Might Need Some Red Paint As a House Warming Present
When I look out my front door, I can't help but smile. My son has adjusted so well to the move and has made friends with some of the kids in the neighborhood, something that hadn't been possible in our previous home. Now he and two other boys are outside playing something unrecognizable but that involved explosion noises, as boy games tend toward.
"Hey boys, Luke needs to come in now. He'll see you tomorrow, okay?" A chorus of disappointed groans follows my declaration, also according to plan. This time, one of the boys follows Luke up the porch steps, though. I can't quite remember his name, but he lives up one road and two houses in. I've spoken with his mother before, of course I have, but she seemed a little off. All the more reason to have the boys in my yard.
Luke walks past me to go wash his hands, a habit I finally ingrained, and doesn't seem to notice his friend following him. He bounces lightly up the front steps with a half smile. "Can I come in and watch some TV with Luke? My mom will think it's fine."
"No, sorry, we're about to have some dinner. Maybe tomorrow?"
He takes another step forward, getting right in the doorway and infringing on my personal space. He scuffs his shoes off on the door mat as if preparing to come in.
"I said not today," I reiterate, my brows drawing together. "I'm sure its close to dinner for you too."
"Oh, it is," he grins at me. "Could I come inside and wash my hands before I go home? Mom doesn't like when I get too dirty."
Before I can answer, he makes as if to come inside, but can't seem to step off the welcome mat. He looks down, incredulous, then tries again. He can't manage to take a step. He presses his palms outward and they hit an invisible wall that he suddenly and violently beats against. "What did you do, you stupid bitch?" he demands, suddenly looking at me with solid black eyes over his gap toothed grade school mouth.
And I suddenly remember when we'd moved in and I'd jokingly painted a devil's trap on the underside of my welcome mat as a joke between my fangirl friends and I. I hope the exorcism I found is just as effective. I'm going back outside now. Wish me luck.
When I look out my front door, I can't help but smile. My son has adjusted so well to the move and has made friends with some of the kids in the neighborhood, something that hadn't been possible in our previous home. Now he and two other boys are outside playing something unrecognizable but that involved explosion noises, as boy games tend toward.
"Hey boys, Luke needs to come in now. He'll see you tomorrow, okay?" A chorus of disappointed groans follows my declaration, also according to plan. This time, one of the boys follows Luke up the porch steps, though. I can't quite remember his name, but he lives up one road and two houses in. I've spoken with his mother before, of course I have, but she seemed a little off. All the more reason to have the boys in my yard.
Luke walks past me to go wash his hands, a habit I finally ingrained, and doesn't seem to notice his friend following him. He bounces lightly up the front steps with a half smile. "Can I come in and watch some TV with Luke? My mom will think it's fine."
"No, sorry, we're about to have some dinner. Maybe tomorrow?"
He takes another step forward, getting right in the doorway and infringing on my personal space. He scuffs his shoes off on the door mat as if preparing to come in.
"I said not today," I reiterate, my brows drawing together. "I'm sure its close to dinner for you too."
"Oh, it is," he grins at me. "Could I come inside and wash my hands before I go home? Mom doesn't like when I get too dirty."
Before I can answer, he makes as if to come inside, but can't seem to step off the welcome mat. He looks down, incredulous, then tries again. He can't manage to take a step. He presses his palms outward and they hit an invisible wall that he suddenly and violently beats against. "What did you do, you stupid bitch?" he demands, suddenly looking at me with solid black eyes over his gap toothed grade school mouth.
And I suddenly remember when we'd moved in and I'd jokingly painted a devil's trap on the underside of my welcome mat as a joke between my fangirl friends and I. I hope the exorcism I found is just as effective. I'm going back outside now. Wish me luck.