It happened again. I thought I could put this childhood nightmare behind me, but it came right back and bit me in the butt.
Today was a gorgeous morning, so Sister and I headed out to the backyard to play (and by the way, we were both in shorts and yes, it's November...ahhh, South Georgia). She opted for a game of hide-n-seek which has become quite competitive between the two of us. A couple of rounds of hiding and seeking and it once again became my turn to hide. I needed a good spot. It's hard to find in our near-barren backyard. I'd done the usuals - under the slide, behind the adirondack chair, beside the trash can. This one needed to be unique - a never before trodded upon hiding spot (and no, I do not find the 27 year age difference to be a concern in my need to compete, although the Husb begs to differ).
As I heard the counting approach number 10, I made a mad dash for the side of the house and found a perfect little alcove that I scrunched down into. I wiggled into the fetal position as I anxiously awaited the "Ready or not, here I come!" charge. And of course, as soon as I heard the charge, I realized my bladder was near explosion. Ugh. That ALWAYS happens at the most inopportune times. I was NOT giving up that easily. I'd found the perfect spot and by golly, I was staying until the mad dash for "base" became available. Since I couldn't see around the corner, I could only rely on hearing the crunch of sticks and hard breathing to know that Sister was nearby. I waited. Then I waited some more. I decided against the mad dash for base because any quick movements would not have been good for the bladder at that moment. I got a little more comfortable leaning against the house to take some pressure off and waited some more. Then I thought I'd throw out some hints. "Pssssst!" Nothing. PSSSSSST!" Nothing. I managed to get up into a standing position (very carefully) and peeked around the corner. That's when I saw it. My childhood nightmare had come back to haunt me again. Sister the Seeker was not on a mad search for me. She had filled a bucket with water and was "painting" (with a stick) Mr. Biggles, our beloved cat-dog. She had given up. I was hiding and there was no seeking. When I showed myself, I did not get so much as a nod or any type of acknowlegement for that matter. The "painting" was too exciting. I hung my head in shame, then made a mad dash for the bathroom.
Hiding with no seeking will just flat ruin your day. It always did when I was a kid. I'd have the greatest hiding spot in the world. I'd have a full bladder. And I would sit and wait...and wait...and wait...until finally I'd come out with the white flag only to realize the Seeker(s) had QUIT! Who invented that sorry game anyway? Blasted hide-n-seek.