“Mom, Dad’s showcreeping again!” The cry rang ’round the house.
When my older daughter was at home, one of her complaints was about people sneaking up when she was watching a TV series by herself and then also watching it.
The greatest perpetrator of this crime was my husband. It wouldn’t have been such a huge deal if it had ended with him watching the single episode with her, but it often extended to the request that she did not continue watching that series without him. “Hey! No fair, you watched ahead of me while I was at work!” he would complain, and frustration ensued.
Showcreeping suddenly became an oft-used word on our household. It’s variations: one can engage in the act of showcreeping, one can be a showcreeper, past tense, one can have showcreeped. Let’s use it in a sentence:
“I was watching Harper’s Island, but Dad came and showcreeped on me, and now it’s not fun!”
My usual response was to tell her that I had no control over her father’s showcreeping behavior (would that be showcreepiness?) and that she should have an honest discussion with him.
What I did not tell her was that she was one of the worst perpetrators of this crime herself.
I hadn’t watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer while it was airing every week on TV, and decided, one Summer, to rent the DVDs.
My daughter came out of the bathroom and saw one of the fakey vampire visages:
“This is stupid.”
“This is really dumb.”
Sitting down on the sofa:
“This show is idiotic.”
Before long, I could not watch the DVDs if I had any downtime to do so unless she was present without the risk of general grumpiness.
It takes a showcreeper to know one.
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