Reruns are fun, aren't they?
Big smart spider
9.oct.2002
By Shalagh Knight
I am scared of spiders. Large menacing ones especially. As my son and I came home last night we noticed a huge spider on the doorpost. By huge I mean big. Really. Really. Big. I believe he had a cigarette and a drink in his hands. He was reading a biker magazine.
I unlocked the door and leapt inside the house, swatting myself all over in case he was on me (even though I was looking at him on the door post). I told my son -- even he was little shaken by his size -- "kick him!" So he did. He kicked the spider hard, only for it to fly into the house at my feet. I screamed and began to dance around like a fire walker whose act has gone very wrong. My boy was laughing at me. Oh yes, I admit it, my dance was a gross pantomime at best, but I was giving it all I had. He took matters into his own hands and stepped in the door and right onto it. Oh! My hero.
We stood there staring at this dead spider and thinking, "My goodness, is he huge!" My boy grabed a bag and scooped up the spider. As soon as he did, the spider jumped up and took off, taking refuge under the couch. I began my dance again, slapping myself as I danced lest he be on me. Then I noticed my brave son, flat on his back, screaming "AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGG!" and kicking the air wildly. Now, that was just good comedy.
I flipped the couch over and we saw the spider; and the spider saw us. He flattened himself to the ground, attempting to hide. My son stomped him again. And again, and again. Finally, the spider was dead. My son then scooped him up (the ultimate act of bravery) and threw him outside. We must have danced and slapped ourselves for an hour or more, attempting to rid ourselves of phantom spiders. Even just remembering this story gives me the shivers. I am happy to reflect that at least I did not have to go through this alone. I had my very brave eight-year old to dance with me.
