My three year old just asked me if I’d play hide and seek with him. He hid first. I did the good mom thing and looked in all the unlikely places before I walked over to the little mound under the blanket on his bed. My turn next. I hid in the bathtub with the bathroom door open so I could see out into the living room. He walked by twice, calling a cursory, “Mummy!” Then, he walked into the kitchen, got two cookies, went and turned on the tv, and sat down to watch cartoons. I should have brought my knitting with me.
Your names’s not Rosemary, is it?
Rosemary’s Baby? Damien?
I used to do that to my brother. After a couple rounds he’d hide and I’d go off to my friends house to play. 
He’s very competitive so I’d guess he would stay hiding for at least 30 minutes (30 minutes of pure hiding master righteousness and gloating) before he realised I wasn’t playing anymore.
Y’all are mean!
For some reason or another my kids never thought to look behind the doors. So I regularly stood behind a door, and then after they checked a room and didn’t see me I’d step out and situate myself obviously in a chair, on the bed, etc. And insist I had been there all along, or perhaps dematerialized briefly. Yeah, I tortured the young-uns.
You know, I’ve never actually seen the movie. I kind of thought that might be the reference, but certaily Damien was a little more horrific than sneaking cookies? Did he make her hide then slash her to bits with a knife? Corner her in the bathtub?? Maybe I should keep an eye on this kid!! (I’m probably being too literal, huh?)
I am the world’s worst hider. I’m good with the initial hiding part, but the second I can hear someone looking for me, I need to pee. My body obviously WANTS me to get caught.
I wouldn’t worry too much until pets start disappearing or you start seeing his bed rise up in the air.
I saw Rosemary’s Baby not too long ago for the first time in many years. It’s way less scary nowadays with all they’ve done to “spook up” movies like The Ring and Grudge with all the effects. Still, The Omen works pretty well, and The Exorcist continues to pack a punch. The sequels to those aren’t so hot.
The lamest by far is Amityville Horror.
Remind me not to hide with you when the aliens attack.
One of my dad’s favorite ways to Fuck With The Kids is to stand on the other side of a door that you know they’re going to use…and hold it shut. This one might not be useful for another couple years, but it’s a good payback for being ditched during Hide ‘n’ Seek.
(Hiding under the blankie…how cute is that?)
One of the two times I can remember fainting was when my brother stood right outside the bathroom door without making a sound. When I opened the door, there he was just staring at me. I passed out. I was maybe 12 at the time. It might still work.
God…that’s beautiful!
My dad, always the jokester, would make sure my mom was totally into washing the dishes and then he’d quietly slip out the front door and crouch down at the window in front of the sink. Only his eyes and the top of his head would be showing. Eventually, she’d glance up and scream bloody murder. He did this every few months for as long as I can remember and he got her every time.
I do this to my wife and kids all the time, over counters, around corners and such, only I often preface it with “You guys wanna go see the pier (peer)?”
It’s great to see we share a sense of beauty at being terrified.
Another thing that happened to me was when I was in my teens (pick a number). My bedroom was on the front of the house, next to the three steps that led up to the front stoop. I was lying in bed with my head toward the window, reading or studying or otherwise distracted. When I looked up there stood a friend of mine just staring in the window at me. He had made no sound getting to the window and there’s no telling how long he had been waiting for me to look up. I didn’t faint this time, but I did allude to the fact that his ancestry was questionable, or that he may have had illicit sexual relations with near kin.
As a small child I remember hiding under the bed and grabbing my moms ankle as she began making the bed. Good results.
Another time she had dragged out the big red American Tourister suitcase to pack for a vacation. I was small enough that I was able to hide inside it as it lay on the bed. so when she came in and grabbed it I jumped up shouting and scared her so bad she had to pee.
Wow! Love that one! It would have killed my mother so I’d have to save it for someone with a sturdier constitution.
Okay, college story.
Our classmate “A” had to leave a big party at 1am because she needed to start the breakfast baking at the restaurant where she worked. She’d had a lot to drink, but by gum, she was going to be responsible, and drunk or not she was going to start baking muffins and scones.
I and a couple of friends left maybe two hours later. On our walk to our respective apartments (we lived close to one another) we realized that we were about a block from the restaurant where “A” was working. She was pretty blitzed, we said, so we ought to stop by and make sure she’s okay. She’d be there by herself, so there shouldn’t be any problem with a visit.
We crossed the block and went over to the restaurant. We could see, through the big front window, “A” was working at the counter. She had a couple of big bowls and a mound of dough in front of her, and she was covered in flour. Her face was puffy and her hair was a mess. She was, obviously, very not happy about being there, and was no doubt reconsidering her decision to show up despite her inebriated state.
And her counter was against the window, so she was facing our direction.
So the three of us stopped on the sidewalk, five or six feet from the building, and two or three more feet from her on the other side of the glass. With nearly psychic unspoken agreement, we all just stood still, watching her, waiting for her to notice. All she had to do was look up.
It was, no exaggeration, several minutes until that happened. She was so out of it, she had no awareness of her surroundings. We watched as she sullenly punched down her dough, cracked and whisked several eggs (accompanied by grouchy mutterings as she picked bits of shell out of the bowl), and otherwise trudged grimly through her duties. It got funnier and funnier for us outside, waiting for her to realize we were there. Our grins got bigger and bigger.
And then, finally, finally, she looked up.
Made eye contact with three people, grinning like lunatics.
A split second of frozen silence.
And then, as the various components of her face went jerking off in all directions, she made this little half-scream-half-gurk noise, flung her utensil into her bowl, and dropped out of sight behind the counter.
Man, was she pissed. But even she had to admit later that it was… the
Funniest. Fright. Ever.
I like to ninja sneak up behind my wife when she’s doing something and just stand there silently. Sometimes it’s a good long while before she’ll turn around, but it gets her every time. I’ve had a few good smacks for it, but dear god it’s worth it.
One of these days I’m not going to realize she’s sharpening knives or something and sheak up behind her and end up in the ER.