No way could I ever have an E.T. doll in my house. Remember those plush ones? Have I mentioned my fear of E.T.?Every now and then I'll be at someone's house and they'll have some sort of E.T. thing and I'll suddenly see it and my heart still leaps out of my chest for a second.I'm real mature.
Me? Neurosis? Nah.
Holy crap, that's one freaky picture.
*backing away slowly*A finger, huh? I only worry about sand fleas. Maybe cat poop.*still backing away*Wow, look at the time. Bye!
Does the irrational rage that Dora-inspired toys count?My back yard is littered (okay, not really, I bury the evidence, muh-ha-ha) with bits of (OOPS!) stepped-on and torn-apart Doras.Man, that sprinkler head was fun to take apart! Backpack this, beyotch!
I think I would be kind of excited if I found a severed finger. I'd be all "Hey kids!!! Check this OUT!" kind of like my mom did once when she opened up a box of frozen vegetables and found a teeny salamander inside (also frozen).
Okay, I didn't USED to have any sand digging fears... thanks for that.
I used to be afraid that my toys would come alive at night...and I was always worried they were angry and were going to attack me when I got a new favorite toy. Eeek.
I dread the inevitable discovery of cat poop in the sandbox, which, when it happens (because it always happens), I hope I can get out of sandbox play. Never happens, though. I actually think a severed finger would be my golden ticket!My own mother made me semi-paranoid of swingsets, always told me swinging too high or hard would cause the swingset to flip. Sadly, I've issued this warning a few times to my kids. The fact our swingset is wooden, large and would require either a tank or a blazing inferno to destroy it, my irrational fears simply mock me
I'm pretty afraid of empty playgrounds, especially around dusk. I always start to hear the tune to Rock-a-bye-Baby, slightly offkey, played by an out of tune violin. Ooooh. Something about that Jack-in-the-box too. I don't think I like him.
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