I’m Asian and adopted by a white family. When I was 9 or so, but looked much younger, my dad placed me in a long concession stand line at the baseball game. He told me he was going to the restroom and not talk to any strangers.
When he got back he started talking to me and I told him I wasn’t allowed to talk with strangers. This went on for a couple of minutes and by now people were starting to stare. So he kind of chuckled and said: I’m not a stranger. You know I’m your dad.
To which I loudly yelled: Dad? You don’t even look like me!
My mom is very religious and would force us to all go to church on Sundays. I knew my dad was on the fence about it so I guess that’s why I thought it would be okay to joke around at church.
At the end of mass, the priest would walk to the exit and shake hands with everyone as they were leaving. My parents were next to shake his hand when all of a sudden I see my little brother reaching for the holy water.
My little brother puts his hand in the holy water and splashes it on my face. I yell out “Oh god no it burns!!! Please help me, Jesus!”
I then feel like my ear was going to be ripped from my head as my mom is dragging me out into the parking lot. My dad is so upset that when he backs out of his parking spot he bumps another car behind him but the owner of the car says not to worry about it.
That was the last time we ever went to church.
I was 5 when my sister was born and I was pissed. I had to be the focus of attention again, but how?
To my luck, I fell and scraped my knee in the presence of my mother. She asks if I’m OK and I pretend I can’t move it.
“Son! Is it broken?”
“Yes…why yes it is.”
We borrow my neighbors wheelchair, and I get taken to the hospital for a 8 hour wait for a doctor. My mother has work in the morning, and I’m holding up the ruse all the way like a little asshole.
Doctor finally comes, takes one look at my knee and says “I will give you TWO freezies if you walk to the end of the hall and back.”
I jump out of that wheelchair so fast there was a fiery trail behind my fat little ass.
Mother not impressed, but 10+ hours of lavish attention and freezies? I’d say that’s a troll well done.
I was about 5 years old. My dad had been working on a window on the second story of our house, so there was a ladder that he had left up. I was climbing on the ladder and my mom came out and told me to get off of it immediately. She went back inside and a wonderful idea popped into my half developed little brain. A few minutes later she came out and she let out the most horrifying scream… I was laying at the bottom on the ladder. After about 5 seconds of her screaming my name, I sat up and started laughing.
I taped over the light button in the refrigerator door. My grandpa had to go all the way to the hardware store to get a new lightbulb, TWICE, before he figured out what I had done.
I was ~5. Got in trouble and got sent to my room.
2 minutes later, my parents hear noises from down the hall.
I was ripping the covers off all my books and sliding them out under the door.
Around age four, I visited Vancouver with my parents, and trolled my mom by constantly disappearing around corners at Butchart Gardens to make her think I was lost. :-)
She counter-trolled by putting me on a leash. :-(
Whenever we’d go to Sam’s Club I’d immediately run and hide from my mom in the spaces between the isles. I could see her, but she couldn’t see me. It was like some kind of Navy Seal stalking feeling. To clarify, the isles aren’t set up like Shop Rite or Walmart…they are very tall warehouse storage type isles with space to hide inside on the bottom level. Also, hiding in the middle of those circular clothing racks…my name rang over the intercom at these places more than once.
When I was like 2-3 I used to think that sticking my fingers down my throat was a game and that my mother just had to catch me in time. One day while she was holding me when we were at a mall she didn’t catch me in time and everyone got new outfits! Apparently I giggled like a school girl. Yay vomit!
I also convinced my parents I believed in Santa for a few years after I stopped believing because I knew that it meant a bonus awesome present. It didn’t stop until I was like 9 and my mom was like you can’t possibly be serious.
For me, it happened when my mom went into the store to grab something quickly when I was about 3. She came back, placed her purse, keys, and glasses in the car since it was raining and the humidity was fogging up her glasses. She closed the door and went to the back of the car to load groceries when I then proceeded to find the “lock all doors” button. She closed the back hatch and came back to the front door to get in, but it was locked. She had no phone, purse, vision, or keys, and it was pouring.
Luckily, my dad placed a spare key somewhere under the frame of the car, so my mom rolled under the car on the wet pavement to feel around for the hanging key. She took about 5 minutes looking but doesn’t find it. Teary-eyed now, she got up and started begging me to press the unlock button, but I just stared blankly back at her.
Finally, she went back into the store completely drenched, not wearing her glasses, and she ran up to a cashier and started crying that she needed to use a phone. The lady handed her a phone book, but my mom can’t read it since she’s blind without glasses. My mom finally screamed at the lady that her kids were in the car and that the doors were locked with the keys inside, so the lady looked up a Pop-a-lock company and called for them to come.
About 15 minutes pass, and to my mom’s displeasure, two huge fire trucks come speeding down the road and turn into the grocery store parking lot. They had apparently gotten a call that two infants were stuck in the car, so it was an all-men-on-deck situation. A fireman wedged open the door with some sort of tool which took about thirty seconds, then they left. My mom was beat.
My sister was a terror as a kid. She’d hold her breath ’till she passed out, throw tantrums constantly, etc. But the best two incidents were when she was 3 or 4.
1. She was antagonizing my mom, who was trying to keep her cool and barely hanging on, and looked up at my mom and said “You want to hit me? I know you want to hit me. Come on, hit me! I dare you!” (Spoiler: My mom didn’t hit her.)
2. Another time, my mom sent my sister to her room for some misbehavior or another. So my sister opened the window and started screaming out “Help! Help! They’re going to beat me! Call the police!”
My trolling consisted of hiding behind stuff and jumping out and screaming “Boo!” and scaring the shit out of my parents. At age 26 I still do this when I go home. As well hiding plastic snakes or bugs in the fridge.
My sister, however, is a fucking genius. Whenever my mom takes her to the grocery store, or has company over for dinner, she puts on a sad face and says, “She’s only feeding me because people are watching”. She is 16 now, but she’s been doing this for years and it is hilarious how mortified my poor mom gets.
I did an accidental troll by deciding to take a nap underneath one of those old-school vinyl bean bag chairs. I woke up and crawled out and my older sister screams, “I FOUND HER!” Turns out, they had called the cops and were searching for me for a few hours. My mom was in hysterics.
Somehow, trolling as a kid is more mentally damaging to adults than trolling as an adult.
I used to hide in laundry hampers (the kind with lids) and jump out whenever I heard someone get close. My family hated that.
I give my mom hell about the bands she likes. Cheap Trick, Supertramp, Rush. I tell her they all sound the same. She get pissed just at that. But when I hear say a Rush song on, I’ll ask her “Hey is this Supertramp?” never fails to send her into a fit.
One time (not in band camp) we went to the beach and I brought home a handful of seaweed. I put it in my parents’ bed and my father found it a couple hours later when he laid down to take a nap. He was somewhat pissed. I thought it was fucking hilarious.
Another one my brother and I would sometimes do was whenever our parents (our father actually, I don’t remember pranking my mother too much) left us in the car, we’d turn on the windshield wipers, the high beams, the radio with the volume fully cranked etc. . . and then we’d laugh our asses off when my father would start the car.
One more: this was a classic from family barbecues. We had a lot of big family cookouts when I was a kid and often one of my grownup relatives would ask someone near the cooler to grab them a cold beer. My brother and I happily volunteered for that job. We’d run over, grab the beer real quickly and shake the shit out of it, as much as possible but not too long so that it wouldn’t look suspicious. Needless to say, we’d pee our pants when the beer cans were opened.
My brother and I were wild little shits as kids. In a good way.
My dad really loves his cars… so occasionally, I and my siblings would run to him crying and say we had hit his car with a baseball or the metal trash can, etc. and he would sprint out to the garage to see the non-existent damages. Hilarity ensued until he came back in and smacked us upside the head.