Aug. 9th, 2011

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I was very proud of myself this morning. I sit on the toilet lid and hold J in my lap to clean his teeth etc, meaning the handtowel hangs down by my right leg. As I was washing J's face, a GIGANTIC F*CKING SPIDER ran up the towel. It looked like a BDSM apricot (copyright Nik). I shot backwards prepared to do my normal hyperventilating screeching thing so that G would come and be manly at it, and then I remembered the little guy clutching my arm. You know, the one I was about to infect with arachnophobia.

So I took a deep breath, and managed in a relative cheerful if slightly strangled voice, "Oh, a spider! Cool! That made Mummy jump, did it make you jump?"

Thankfully, my local God In Human Form heard my veiled plea for help and came to remove it, whilst I sat on the bed with J and talked about spiders and how cool they are. G brought it over (firmly grasped under a glass), and we talked about the structure of the legs and those horrific little nodules they have on their heads. Then G put it out of the window, and took J off to the bathroom so I could scream a bit in private.

G, incidentally, got a sticker for being a good boy and going in the toilet. I feel slightly aggrieved that I didn't get one for not fleeing the sceen at slightly more than the speed of sound.
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Protip - if you have to preface your remarks with "I'm not a racist, but...", you relly need to stop talking around the "I"...

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August 2011

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