Here's the scene:
I'm finishing up breakfast in the kitchen. Good Friday in Canada is a stat holiday, so we're home with the munchkins. The children are playing quietly in the living room. Suddenly, there's a commotion. No, they're not fighting, and no one has "accidentally" stepped on anyone else. Nothing like that. Rather, our daughter has spotted a spider walking across the ceiling, and has enlisted her younger brother's help to visually track it while she runs to the kitchen to fetch Dad the Spider Eradicator.
Dad grabs a tissue from a nearby box and follows spider-phobic little girl to the scene of the arachnid intruder. The eight-legged dude has arrived at the crown molding and is sitting (standing?) on a spot directly above the kids' computer. Dad grabs a chair and assesses the tactical situation. He usually tries to get them out of the house bloodlessly, but this one refuses to play along. It doesn't move when the tissue is placed next to it.
This is bad: a spider that won't cooperate can easily make a run for it, rapelling down a quickly-spun line of silk into some never-to-be-seen-again hiding place inside a dusty piece of computer equipment. No, says Dad, not today. After what seems like hours but is more likely 30 seconds, Dad squishes the intransigent insect (murderer!) and wipes the spot a couple of times to ensure there are no spider-guts left behind.
Daughter cries, "Ew, there's blood there." Dad confirms, no, it's just a shadow on the edge of the molding. The spider is very much an ex-spider, and all of him (her? it?) is now firmly stuck in the folds of the tissue.
Formerly-squeamish children suddenly lose their fear and become very curious children. They must visually confirm the deceased state of the spider, and insist that father opens up the tissue and shows them.
"Ewwwww....cool!" They both ooh and aah over the state of their father's recently-dispatched victim as they all meander over to the bathroom for the ritual flushing.
The tissue is tossed in. The lever is flushed. The children wave and say goodbye as it circles the bowl before beginning its inevitable trip down sewage pipe lane.
Once it's obvious that spidey is good and gone, the children turn around and go back to their toys on the living room floor. Crisis averted.
End scene.
Welcome, exzite. So glad you could join us and share your thoughts. I must admit, I've never had someone take the time to put up a hate site about me. Most folks usually blow their wad in e-mail and leave it at that, so I'll give you credit for investing the time and energy in letting the world know how much you despise what I write.
ReplyDeleteIf you think you're the first, or will be the last to not like my writing, think again. You obviously have lots of courage hiding behind an alias. Takes guts: I'm sure your demeanor would change significantly if I were standing in front of you. Ya think?
Somewhat bizarrely, It's flattering: you have nothing better to do than crank out thousands of words about someone you obviously do not like. Most people would simply find something else to do, yet you devote hours and hours to this purposeless pursuit. We're all so impressed. Do you work or study? When DO you find the time?
I'm going to leave it up so everyone who visits my blog can read your output and make their own assessment. Suffice to say your mother would not be proud.
BTW, for anyone interested, exzite visits us through comcast.net, from an IP address in the 67.171.76.XX range.
For the record, I enjoy your family stories more than anything else you write. As well as being very entertaining, they remind me of all the small moments with my own children that might otherwise pass unnoticed.
ReplyDeleteEwwww....cool! LOL - Sounds just about right.
ReplyDeletePersonally think that exzite guy is just jealous - I wouldn't worry about him.
Wow. I, for one, am impressed by you L33t s{!llz, d00d.
ReplyDeleteYou must be well hung, too.