(don’t worry. no photos for this post.)

My kids may need therapy.

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

But, it may be if this single event is part of the cause.

Ashlyn was going down to the basement to get something–don’t even know what now. That’s not important. What was important is that her mission was stopped because of a spider. And, it was no little spider. She came upstairs without whatever it was she was going down for and told me she would not go down in the basement again until that spider was gone.

Oh, come on. I’ll get it.

Nope. Too big for me. This is one Dad’s gotta handle (you know, he’s so much older and more mature than me).

But, my message must have gotten somehow confused because rather than kill the spider, he put it in a bug catcher jar which I’m embarrassed to say we have too many of to count and many hang out either empty or with some sort of remains of some creature in my kitchen, usually on top of my refrigerator…but sometimes not. It is what it is.

This spider was huge and even scarier close up. I mean, I know a firm piece of plexiglass was between us, but this thing was disgusting and somehow managed to spend a good couple days on my kitchen counter in full view.

I had had enough. When my eldest started taunting me with it at the dinner table, I announced that they better take the thing outside and let it go (so merciful of me). And, I meant immediately. But, my first (second? third?) mistake was going into the other room to make a phone call. As I was hanging up, Evan and Ashlyn ran in laughing, claiming that Lydia had the bug jar and now it was empty and the spider was somewhere in the kitchen.

Ha. Ha. Very funny.

Mark, you guys took it outside, right? Come on, you are kidding me….right? right? Lydia had the jar and then it was empty? No…

Seconds later, Lydia screamed like I’ve never heard before. I mean blood-curdling, trembling all over, eyes bulging scream. After which she shakes her arm and flings off the spider which proceeded to land on our dinner table still full of our dinner. I scoop Lydia up and try to calm the poor girl down (who is now sobbing crying) while the spider makes a break for it, scurrying quickly across the table. Drew, who had still been eating, is now also sobbing crying and cowering in the corner of our eat-in bench. Dad, always the hero, goes after the escapee with the first thing he can grab…which happened to be Drew’s fork. For some reason, swatting at a fast-moving large spider with a child’s fork isn’t all that effective though he did manage to force it off the table and onto the floor where he then stepped on it. and smashed it. as he should have by himself when I sent him down to the basement a few days earlier.

Drew calmed down after a few minutes. Lydia took a few more minutes and kept saying, “bug bug, up, arm, scary.”

Nice.

A couple days later, they seem okay. But, for some reason, here I am at midnight blogging about the whole ordeal. I find myself having to debrief about it. Occasionally, since it happened, I’ll just think about it and shutter or just smile and laugh aloud (…a little).

It was quite a scene.

Perhaps I’m the one who might need therapy.