Just like any little kid, I revered my dad as a super hero – the human shield against all things dangerous.
The monster in the closet:
The murderer in the tree:
And then there were spiders.
Our house backed onto acres of land, a breeding ground for wildlife and those nasty bastards and their eight legs of evil. They hid in the basement where our toy room was and they probably crawled all over my doll’s face and got caught in My Little Pony’s hair egha-blah-bloo-pfff.
I was terrified of them.
Once they were spotted, my Super Hero dad would storm the room. He always meant business because he knew that I wouldn’t rest until he had killed them dead and I needed proof – smashed in tissues or their ugly guts stuck on the bottoms of my sister’s rubber soles.
I didn’t want that bad juju on my shoes.
One day the spider that he “killed” pulled a resurrecting Jesus stunt and jumped out of the tissue at me. From that point on, I no longer required proof of the carnage. My dad thought that it was hilarious so he chased me with dead spiders in tissues.
All. The. Time.
My fear of spiders is so bad that I cannot even look at pictures of spiders and I cannot even touch toys that are spiders. I have even trained my dog to kill spiders that crawl on the ground. I’m not even lying.
I. Hate. Them.
A couple of weeks ago, I spotted strands of spider webs hanging in our house. I had to cautiously enter rooms by throwing my kid in first. Then one morning as I was making breakfast, I saw something floating by my side…
Chunky: What mom?
Me: Ahhhhh! *points at the dangling beast from the ceiling*
Chunky: It’s a spider! I’ll kill it!
*Chunky throws Shawn’s shoe in the opposite direction of the spider*
Spider: You mother f**kers! *it falls and charges at us*
Me, Chunky, Champ: Ahhhh…woof!
Chunky: Here’s a cup mom!
How many of us does it take to kill a spider?
We had to wait until Shawn got home from lunch…
What are you afraid of?