It’s been a very lazy Sunday in the Caines house. So lazy, in fact, that The Boy and I didn’t make it out of our pajamas until well after lunch. He slept for about 12 hours last night (hey – if you play hard, you should sleep hard), Cute Husband is at a convention (coming home later today), and neither The Boy nor I really want to go anywhere (I’ve been a baking maniac), so a lazy Sunday it has been.
That’s not to say that it hasn’t been eventful, though.
The Boy was in his room putting away some toys when he called me to come to his room.
“Mom!” he yelled. “A bug!”
Now, I don’t like bugs. I don’t like bugs at all. And what greeted me in The Boy’s room was a wolf spider – not a huge one by any means, but a wolf spider nonetheless. Normally, I would send Cute Husband into the room to deal with it, but that wasn’t an option. So I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed the bug spray, and then proceeded to spray the spider, chasing it into The Boy’s closet.
Once it went in there, a part of me wanted to just let it stay there and die, but another part of me (that morbidly curious part) needed to make sure it was really dead. So I ran back to the kitchen, put away the bug spray, and came back to The Boy’s room with a paper towel. I opened the door to find a very weak and (presumably) dying spider, its legs all clenched tightly under its little body.
And as I looked at it, The Boy peered at it, too, from behind my legs and said, “You got it! Yay! Go, Mom!”
Emboldened by these words, I picked up the spider with the paper towel and deposited it into the toilet in the hall bathroom. I was brave, and The Boy was proud of me.