They’re Never As Friendly As Charlotte Made Us Think They Are

I’m not going to lie.

This picture made me laugh out loud, because it is exactly how both the boy and I feel about bugs sporting eight legs.

I have been known to cower in the corner myself and ask the boy to PLEASE GET A SHOE!  GET A SHOE NOW!  AND CLOBBER THAT THING WHILE I SIT HERE AND SHIVER LIKE NELLIE OLSON!

And the boy?  He usually joins me in standing on the table, while the spider streaks across the dining room floor.  I once asked him, “What will you do when you’re married and a spider is in your house?  Hmm?”  Without missing a beat, he replied, “I’ll call Daddy to come over really quick!”

Granted, he was six when he made that comment, but I’m pretty sure that he still feels the same way.

The boy and I don’t DO the spiders.

Obviously you can imagine our joy when those beasts that weigh more than our cats and are covered in hair and eyeballs and fangs — SWEET HOLY MOSES!  THE FANGS! — crawl into our basement laundry room looking for small mammals to cover in ketchup and devour for dinner.  I have raised the roof on this house more than once yelling for a hitman from the counter in my laundry room.

And thank goodness Hubs always comes through for us.

This is how Hubs feels about spiders:

It’s one of the reasons that eHarmony suggested I marry him, people.  And low!  How I love that guy!

Y’all have a good weekend.

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