Killing Spiders

A spider’s home in my home

As the man of the house it is my job to kill any and all spiders found.
As the father of two boys I was hoping I could pawn this job off on someone else.
I’ve long told my wife that the big G isn’t going to let me through the Pearly Gates. He’ll give me a number with at least four zeroes behind it as a body count, and put me in the same circle of hell as other atrocious serial killers.

Fraidy Tom

One weekend we were going through the nap and rest dance. Tom is too old for naps, but that doesn’t mean we as parents don’t want him to take one. The more he naps, the more time we have to actually get things done around the house. We’ve rebranded naps “rests,” and set a timer for 30 minutes. If he’s quiet and in his bed the entire time, we go up and get him, and he’s released from the hell that is a fairly comfortable bed.
This particular weekend day when we sent him up he started yelling down to us.
“I see a SPIIIIIIII-DERRRRRR!”
I go up to find and kill said spider.
“I see a SPIIIIII-DERRRRRR!”
I go up to find and kill said spider. Then I tell him to stop looking out the window, and to next time call for his mother.
Two minutes later:

“I see a SPIIIII-DERRRRR. And it’s too high for mommy. I need daddy.”
😐 — Not. Amused.