Spider in the Car

Few things render one as helpless as a spider dangling threateningly from the windshield of the car as one is driving under an overpass through a dangerous merge area of a major highway in the rain. It's baffling the complete and total loss of reasoning and logic. Panic, sheer confined panic, swiftly takes over.

Initially, I frantically tried to find a place to pull over, but the new guardrails on that highway made it impossible. Thank goodness I keep tissues in the car. For at least a half a mile, I contemplated killing the thing with my hand, but the fear that I would miss and the spider would actually start crawling up my arm was too intense, and I was frozen. When I lucidity returned, I remembered good old Kleenex there in the center console.

Really, I am a big baby. The spider should be part of the driver's ed test. See how everyone fares when faced with the ultimate arachnid danger. Those who crash in that momentary loss of all sense would be denied a license. Everyone who passes can surely handle anything.

Potty Words, Potty Words Everywhere

Well, the boy keeps saying potty words. Sigh. And he has taught them to other kids. Sigh. Sigh. AND he has taught the other kids how to spell them. Groan.

How did he learn how to spell them, you may ask. Not from me. His phonemic awareness must be off the charts. He'd better have an exceptional language arts grade on his report card because he figured them out on his own.

Catching the Turkey

Last year, as the turkey was cooking, Bubby asked me where the bird came from. I explained that I caught it and plucked it, and viola, we have a turkey. I was kidding, of course, but you know, the boy has a memory. He asked the other day when I was going to catch another turkey because Thanksgiving is coming.

Now, the official story was that I walked down the road to the turkey farm (yes, there was a turkey farm down the road). I entered the pen, chose a turkey, and chased it around until I caught it. I then kicked its fanny, grabbed its neck, and shook it as it wildly called, "Gobble, gobble, gobble."

This year, the turkey farm has moved, so I told the boy I will have to drive to the woods and hunt a turkey there. Wild turkeys are too heavy to carry home, which is why I need the car. Furthermore, they leak all kinds of drippings, so I will need to shrink-wrap the bird before I put it in the car to keep the car clean. Then, I will bring it home to stuff.

The other day, Bubby's list of "thankfuls" came home, and lo and behold, he is thankful for his "mommy catching a turkey because she has to run fast." I am glad my hard work does not go unnoticed.

Pants

The boy has been learning about the Pilgrims at school. Today, his teachers posed a few questions. Here they are, accompanied by Bubby's genuine, no nonsense answers.

1. If you were a Pilgrim, where would you live?
In my house.

2. If you were a Pilgrim, what would you wear?
Pants.

Always practical, that's my boy! Can't you just hear the silent "Duh" after each answer?

My Spooky Decorating

The neighbors told me to keep it all up until Christmas.

Teeny Bopper Concerts

I just wanted the world to know that I went to the Miley Cyrus concert, and I enjoyed every minute of it--that is until I left the arena and felt grossly untalented. I can't sing or dance or wear hot pants. Can't do it now. Couldn't do it when I was sixteen. But, I bet I can diagram a sentence much more accurately than Miley can. Too bad I can't rake in the big bucks for that.