Spider Fighter

It's no secret that in our house, we are not big fans of bugs.  When we were first married, Mark and I would argue about who was going to smash the evil spiders that lurked in the corners of our apartment. 

Of course my son has inherited that same angst.  Rather than being a responsible mother who tries to instill bravery in my young boy, I often perpetuate this bug-phobia with my own reactions and refusal to let him savagely massacre families of ants and torture butterflies (something about a kid who delights in the killing of insects gives me the willies - yes, roll your eyes at me!)

Today, while I was cleaning up the kitchen and Eli was playing in the other room (Marina was napping for anyone who was wondering if I left her in the car), I spotted a giant grass spider (see picture below) standing, looking up at me from the [fake] wood. 

At first I was startled but then I glared at the intruder.  I hollered for Eli so he could get a good look at the horrifying bug.  He was intrigued, but then he gave the order for me to kill the beast! (just like in Beauty and the Beast - I guess I would be the Beauty in this scenario, though the comparison stops there)  I told Eli to bring me a shoe to smash him up.  Moments later he ran in with his dad's big shoe.  Unfortunately, it was a soccer cleat, which was not really the ideal tool for this job.  I sent him back for a different shoe.  This time he came in with a high heel.  Again, not great, but rather than send him back again, I decided to give it a go.  I inched closer with my shoe held high.  But, upon closer inspection, I decided the spider was just too big to smash; he would very likely carry my shoe away.  I told Eli that maybe it was a better idea to catch the spider with a cup and release him outside.  He flatly refused this option.  This spider was to be killed quickly.  I had to think again.  I proposed we spray him down with some "Natural Oils" (this is a reference to the chemicals that Billy the Exterminator uses).  Eli liked this idea. 

I might stop to mention now that Eli has not wanted to put his clothes on in the mornings and would prefer to tour the house in his Buzz Lightyear tighties.  Keep this in mind for a minute. 

So I grabbed the "Natural Oils", took aim, and began to spray cinnamon-smelling chemicals all over the poor spider (who looked a bit beat up - only 3 legs on one side and 4 on the other.  It was cruel to attack a spider with special needs.)  Immediately the bug started darting around and immediately my son started shrieking and running around in circles, wearing only his underwear, unable to contain his terror.  I wanted to laugh and tell him he was screaming like a girl, but my better sense kept me in check.  I then put a paper towel over the struggling, crippled spider and lowered my high heel on him with brute force (I didn't want to see the carnage or scrape it off my shoe).  And just like that, the screaming stopped.  He glanced over my shoulder to see what happened.  Once he was satisfied with the fate of the spider, he turned around and walked back into the living room. 

How quickly life passes before our eyes, or under our high heels.