defense mechanisms

My son-in-law, Kye came home the other day with a brand new tent. The thing is HUGE, with a main area and then 2 side rooms – big enough for the entire clan! Of course, we had to set it up in the front yard, just to make sure everything was there, and no holes or anything. The grandkids were all over it, the cat was inspecting it, Nemo sniffed it – it passed every test! Our grandsons Zac and Michael decided that they were going to sleep in the tent that night and break it in. Paul and I just shook our heads; no way were they going to last all night! There were 2 main reasons we pooh-poohed the idea: number 1, our grandkids are wieners, afraid of the dark and all things therein, and number 2, they are city slickers! Roughing it at our house means having to use dial up internet access. Sure enough, as the sun began to set, the kids started taking out their ‘supplies’ to the tent. Two extension cords, a fan, a lamp, mattresses, video games… and that is not counting the wardrobe changes and food. And the darker it got, the more apprehensive they became. Zac found a big stick, and tucked it inside the main flap, within easy reach in case of attack. They tried to get Nemo to sleep in the tent, but he is a city slicker dog, and only sleeps on his Simmons Posturpedic and so declined the offer. Finally the time came for Nana and Papa to turn in, and so the kids walked the 10 steps from the front porch to the tent and zipped in. Then we turned off the lights and called it a night. A couple of hours later, Paul got up for a bathroom run. When he returned to bed he said ‘Lewis & Clark are asleep in the living room.’ We both laughed about it and then Paul began to tell me about his first experience sleeping out and how scared HE was of all the noises and shadows. I commented on how it would have been funny to jump inside the tent and scare the kids. Paul said that he had a defense mechanism that always kicked in when he was a kid – immediately upon being frightened out of his wits, the vicinity would be flooded with .. well, he called it ‘liquid feces’. In other words, he would lay down a layer of *&^% which would cause the assailant to either run away or slip and fall down. Either way, he could escape. I thought that sphincters tightened in moments of panic, but evidently Paul is a throwback to our amphibian ancestors, such as the Squid, which also squirt out a defensive cloud when they sense danger. Just the other day, I surprised him in the bedroom and he jumped out of his skin, spun around and cut the cheese, all in a nano-second! Note to self: jumping out to scare husband may be hazardous to my health.