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.
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:
Y’all have a good weekend.