Tickling

A blog I just posted in my Help for Single Parents blog just reminded me of an incident that occurred when I was a child.

I was coming down the hall in school after having just gone to church with everybody else in my second grade class. Dale was the first one in the room. I followed him. Nobody was behind me, because Dale and I walked faster than the rest of the class.

There he was, this adorable little blonde, curly-haired seven year old. I couldn't help myself. I ran down the aisle and I tickled him. 

He looked at me in horror – WHY DID YOU DO THAT?

I should have said, "Well, Dale, I obviously suffer from impulse control." But my little seven year old brain was incapable of explaining my outrageous behavior. I retreated to my seat in shock, surprising even myself. What possessed me? 

Nobody said anything when the other kids filtered into the room and took their seats. Dale sat as still as a statue, frozen in his seat, terrorized by this much taller seven year old kid with razor sharp nails that probably sliced through his clothing – a Freddy Krueger movie in the making.

I'm sure I gave the kid nightmares, because I came out of nowhere and just plunged my fingers into his side, tickling and tickling him because he was just so darned cute.

Just goes to show you can turn a nightmare into something fun. I don't think I'll tell the kids in my daycare about Freddy, though – or Dale.