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.