How I Know My Son Will Be A Horror Writer, Pt. 2

I've mentioned that my son (who is now 3) is destined to be the next great horror writer. This week, he took another step down the road of the macabre.

A few nights ago, I took up more than my share of the available parking area in our driveway. I'm sure I was in a hurry and was planning to move the car before my wife and son got home. But I didn't. So, when Cindy and Squish got home after a hard day at work and the babysitter, they had to wedge into the driveway in a catawampus fashion that (if we decorated our yard in such a way) would have meant certain death for garden gnomes and pink flamingos.

I came outside, apologized, and offered to move the cars.

To which Squish replied, "Daddy, you park like a bo-bo head!"

Hmmm. I wonder where he heard that?

Anyway, that was good for a chuckle, and I think that might have been Squish's plan. Make 'em laugh, take 'em off guard, then hit them with the pants-wetting zinger.

The next day, I picked Squish up from the sitter. On the drive home, he called to me from the back seat.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Squish?" I asked, checking the review to see that he was smiling happily.

"Don't park like a bo-bo head," he said.

"I won't" I assured him.

"If you park like a bo-bo head, I'll be mad."

"Okay, buddy."

"If you park like a bo-bo head, I'll be very mad."

"I get the picture," I said (and I promise there wasn't a hint of annoyance in my voice).

"If you park like a bo-bo head," Squish then said, "I will turn into a SPIDER!"

It's said that a great horror writer can give you nightmares. Congrats, Squish, that little conversation did the trick!