Play a Practical Joke on My Family

I have to admit that I haven't exactly cultivated a climate of "fun and games" in the Stockton house. I'm a jumpy and skittish person by nature, and the few times my husband has tried to spook me with rubber spiders and fake snakes and the like, I think I've tended to cuss like a sailor and girl-slap him in his chest.

He once found a creepy little plaster lawn jockey man missing an arm next to the dumpster in our alley. He dragged it home, and over the course of the following week, I'd open doors, cupboard, cars, etc. only to find that damned lawn jockey staring at me around every corner. I fell for it EVERY time. At some point, he could tell by my body language that it was "me or the jockey."

Today I decided that it would be my turn to play a joke on the household. Afterall, nobody would suspect it out of me. I'm all boring and mom-ly.

I rigged up the old rubber-band-on-faucet trick. The premise is that when someone unwittingly turns the faucet to the sink on, they get sprayed in the face. Mooo hah ha.

I tried to let the gag happen naturally, but nobody in my house does the dishes or washes their hands, and there is really no other reason why they'd be turning on the kitchen faucet.

At one point in the day, I came into the kitchen and spied Claire eating strawberries. Earlier in the day, she'd been playing with some silly putty the color of baby shit, so I quickly pointed out to her that she'd need to wash the diarhea color off of her hands before eating any more strawberries.

And just like that, poor Claire became my victim.

As you can see, she was a great sport about it. Yes, in hindsight, I feel a little bit guilty.

Claire quickly seized the opportunity to launch into a state of full martyrdom, complete with the stripping off of her wet clothes and refusal to stop staring at our fence and come inside.

Gary got a hearty chuckle out of the video, but I can't say that this particular event had a positive outcome. Not only did I give my 8-year-old a bona-fide reason to avoid ever washing her hands again, but I've set the stage for retribution.

My entire household has suddenly turned into a giant jack-in-the-box, booby-trapped with God only knows what. I'm sure I'll get my payback within the next couple of days when I pull open the lid to the toilet and find a lawn jockey head or something of the like...