I could hear the shriek from Carrie’s bedroom through two closed doors. A second later, frantic pounding on my bedroom door and Carrie’s breathless, “Spider! Spider! Spider!” confirmed my suspicions. It was time for “Spider Terminator” (otherwise known as “Mom”) to jump out of bed and speed into action.
“Okay, Carrie,” I said as I pulled my cape—ummm, robe—over my rumpled flannel pajamas, “where is this spider and how big is it? Can I actually see it this time with the eyes God gave me or do I have to engage my super X-ray vision to distinguish it from all the other bits of dust in your room?”
“Oh, Mom, it’s huge!” shuddered Carrie, as she held up her finger and thumb at least two inches apart. “It’s crawling along the edge of the ceiling above my closet. Please get it quick, before it disappears!”
“Well, I’ll grab a tissue from the bathroom. You know what you have to do, Carrie, right? I may have super spider terminating skills but I’m not eight feet tall, so get out the stool for me to stand on.”
I sped into the bathroom, snatched a tissue and whirled into Carrie’s room. Speed was so important! If I didn’t get the spider before it vanished into the abyss of my daughter’s bedroom, Carrie might once again refuse to sleep in her room for fear of the spider coming back and “getting” her.
Carrie had the stool positioned in front of the closet and she was standing as far away from there as she could get. “There it is, Mom. Get it! It’s huge!” she screeched as she pointed with a shaky finger.
I teetered on the one-step stool (this Super Hero Mom doesn’t do well with heights), tissue clutched in my right hand, reaching for—what? “Carrie, where is this huge spider? I don’t see it.”
“It’s right there, Mom! Just to the right of the tissue. Can’t you see it? It’s huge! --Just huge!!”
“Oh, you mean that teensy, tiny, spider?” I said as I pointed to a spider not more than a quarter inch wide—and that was counting its legs. I quickly scooped it up in the tissue. --At least, I think I scooped it up in the tissue. For all I know, I may have knocked it to the floor and it scurried to safety in the darkness of Carrie’s closet. I can always hope...
“Quick, Mom, flush it!”
So, I did--flush it--tissue and all. “Ker-ploosh!” Another one of many spiders sent to spider heaven by the Spider Terminator. Poor spider... Poor scared Carrie...
Poor Mom... You see, when I was Carrie’s age I was deathly afraid of spiders, too!
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