Our maple…the first on the block to turn
When I was about eight, my mom, aunt and several of my older cousins (14 and older), went to a haunted house in Byron Center. My seven-year-old cousin Jeff and I were mad. Pouty mad. Whiny mad. Especially when they came back and we found out that Gail had been so scared she cried. Of course I was also the little girl who, at six, had started to go through the haunted house at Spring Valley Elementary School and got so scared that I backed out at the last minute, crying. Short memory, I guess. But I’ve always been intrigued by haunted houses.
Last year, the big to-do was The Haunt. We were hearing things about people being so scared that they peed their pants, but Scott and I braved it. We stood in line for about an hour, with me getting very nervous as time went on and we got closer to the entrance. Then we went in…and I wasn’t scared one bit! How disappointing! If I’m going to work myself up about something, there’d better be a little payoff.
So this year, I’ve concocted more fear-based actitivies. After dinner with Chad and Tiffany last night, I discovered that Tiff likes haunted houses too. We’ve decided to tackle the Forest of Fear and The Haunted Mill of Greenville. (Scratch that — seems the mill burned down. Where have I been, eh?) There’d better be some scary stuff!