Arachnoids Part II

The Rooster is away. For quite a long time. And I'm parenting solo.

And I can do it! I really can! I can juggle 5 children and the Houdini dog, multiple car runs to and from kinder/day care/school, manage a trip to the supermarket with all 5 in tow, ensure my schedule is reworked so I never have to do THAT again, keep up with who is swimming and who is dancing and who is sulking in the corner and refusing to take part in any extra-curricular activities, soothe nightmares, defend our home against an alien attack and generally ensure the children feel safe, protected, loved and nurtured.

But I cannot "do" spiders. Not big ugly hairy ones anyway. I'd face any of my other fears before I faced a huntsman.

And so, of course, who should grace us with his presence this morning but Mr Bigger, Uglier and Hairier than ever. Hanging off the bathroom ceiling, with nary a care in the world. Like he already KNEW there's little I could do about him being there, because Icould not bring myself to even walk up the hallway toward the bathroom now his existance had been screamed throughout the house by the Honeygirl.

Actually first she came in and announced that she could not brush her teeth for church, because there was a spider. When I asked my standard "How big?" she held out her hands to the size of a dinner plate.

I gulped, took a deep breath, struggled to find the courage I knew lay beneath the surface .......... and sent Tubby and the Rabbit to inspect it further.

The shade of the Rabbit's face gave me a good indication - he returned with a complexion to match the toothpaste the Honey Girl had dumped on the floor!

Now in our house recently, I've made a genuine effort to ensure I do not pass my great fear of spiders on to my children. (Clearly, from the Rabbit's reaction, I'm not doing so well in that regard just yet!) When a Spider Alert is put out by one of the children, I do an inspection and often my reply is "It's just a Daddy-long legs, he's alright".

And then we argue about whether it is permitted to reside in the toilet/pantry/bedroom/hallway and why it is still possible to do chores/pack up/laundry/shower/poo with a Daddy-long-legs nearby.

Now might also be a good time to point out that I have very long legs. If my body proportion matched my leg length, I'd be in supermodel territory. (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!)

I have very long legs and a fairly short body.

I am not, however, hairy. This is an important point to note. I am most certainly not hairier than the Rooster. I have a short body and long legs, but I work hard at NOT being hairy. Okay?!

So ..... there we were. Giant mutation of a Huntsman hanging on the ceiling of the bathroom, as confirmed by Tubby and the Rabbit. Both of whom are prone to slight exaggeration. But there was also no way I wanted to discover their single attempt at truth for the day by finding myself face to face with the monster of my nightmares. Big, long, hairy legs hanging off a short, rounded body, covered in those tiny hairs and beady eyes; watching me; waiting, ready to launch itself at me ..........

So I sent Pants to investigate. He's much more likely to give an accurate representation of the situation.

He ran down the hall in much excitement, and stopped at the bathroom door. Peered in. Looked up.

And let out a shout of awe : "Wooooaaaah! That's not a Daddy-long-legs..... that's a MUMMY long legs!!"