Last night I felt like I was wandering around in the movie Groundhog Day.
I was at the part where Bill Murray goes to bed, gets attacked in the face by a rogue moth, and ends up plugging his ears when the cat catches the flying beast out of the air and proceeds to eat it.
Because do you know what happened AGAIN last night? Well, we just repeated Sunday night. I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. (*cue too hot, too cold, too this, too that*) And then another moth landed on my face.
I know that it was another moth, as opposed to the same one from Sunday night, because Cat 2 killed, ingested and digested that one.
Apparently I’m on some hit-list circulating throughout the moth kingdom.
I have no idea what I ever did to them.
Just as Bill Murray relives the same event over and over AND OVER ALREADY in the movie, I did the same thing, too. (*cue flailing arms and legs and shrieking and spinning and break dancing moves that are best left to the ’80s and the giant disco ball*)
After my little demonstration entitled, “What Should You Do When A Moth Lands On Your Face While You’re In Bed Attempting To Sleep,” the boy came running into our bedroom. He yelled, “Mom! What’s wrong?”
Hubs sat up and said, “I’m guessing she’s fighting a moth.”
People, sometimes knights in shining armor go unnoticed, because they take their armor off and lay their swords aside and JUST SLEEP instead of FIGHTING THE DRAGON FOR THE PRINCESS.
The boy said, “Well, it’s okay, Mom; I’d do the same thing if a giant spider landed in my bed.”
I felt a little shame and embarrassment, because small moths and giant spiders are not really on the same list called SCARY THINGS THAT ATTACK AT NIGHT.
The boy left our bedroom, and then returned a few seconds later, carrying Cat 2. Obviously he knows what troops and military branch to call in for a moth invasion.
Cat 2 sniffed the air, tucked her ears low and clear back, and ran. And then she jumped about four feet off the hardwood floors and came down with a moth wing hanging out of her jaws.
I’m telling y’all… that cat is a machine when it comes to grabbing things out of the air. Normally, she doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, and oftentimes can’t even remember who WE are. It’s like living with a cat suffering from Alzheimer’s. She always seems so surprised to see her food dish. (“Did we have this stuff yesterday?” she’ll ask.) She sometimes licks the walls. (“But I thought it was vanilla,” she’ll say.) But if you need a winged creature of the air caught and destroyed, she’s your guerrilla.
I’m hoping that this is the end of the nightly battles with the moths, because I don’t know if my heart can handle the stress of feeling another one land on me in the dark, without just flat-out exploding from sheer shock.
Sister stopped over this morning with Cousin H. Little H and Thing 2 both looked adorable (which is really an everyday occurrence with those two), so I squished them together in a chair and took one hundred quick snapshots of them.
Photography with toddlers is not for the weak or those with extremely high expectations of snagging the perfect photo. Toddlers don’t cooperate in front of a camera.
And then there was this:
It started out as an innocent hug between two cousins and turned into an angry Bite Festival. Cousin H did not want Thing 2 hugging her; not at all. He assumed that she should have respected his decision to show her some love, so he was stunned when she said, “There will be no hugging today!”
So he tried to bite her. How dare she shrug off his good intentions?
And when he tried to bite her, she tried to bite him.
Thankfully, Sister and I intervened before anyone needed stitches.
… Cousin H tried to jump on Thing 2’s miniature, indoor trampoline. He is unaccustomed to having folks jump there, because everyone in his house exceeds the fifty-pound weight limit. This was new to him. Who was this child in the gray dress who started bouncing on his trampoline without asking him?
Thing 2 took matters into his own hands, and he hit her with a light saber.
Any Jedi worth his salt knows that grabbing the most dangerous weapon in the galaxy by the wrong end usually doesn’t work out well.
This is Thing 2, showing his I’M VERY ASHAMED OF HITTING A GIRL WITH A LIGHT SABER face.
Thankfully, these two toddlers still love one another.
When Sister and Cousin H left, Thing 2 walked around the house, asking me, “H? H? H?” This can be interpreted as, “Where did Cousin H go? I want her to come back and play!”
Either that, or he was saying, “Oh, dear heavens! I think I hit Cousin H with a light saber hard enough to make her disappear like Obi Wan once did. Crud. This could lead to trouble…”
Y’all carry on and wish me luck on my moth problems.