It was a simple request.
A request that is repeated nearly every morning in our home.
“Grace, go feed and water the chickens, and bring in the eggs.”
Said child, happily bounces off to complete her task.
Soon, said child returns with slight look of horror on her face.
“Um, mommy….I don’t think you should go to the coop.”
I immediately start thinking that we must have another large snake in the coop devouring my precious eggs, so I timidly ask, “Snake?”
My sweet child’s reply?
“No ma’am. It’s a really HUGE spider right in the doorway.”
“Noah, go feed the spider to the chickens and get my eggs please.”
I, safe inside, away from the HUGE spider, contentedly continue to make my bread.
Then I hear multiple screams of alarm from my children.
I think to myself, if Noah is screaming, it must be bad.
Bad like I have a chicken eating spider in my back yard.
Bad like somehow Sheila survived Sam’s attack and has come to live with me.
I put on my brave face and head over to check things out. I am after all trying to conquer this silly little phobia of mine.
Turns out it’s not so silly.
That’s a 2 x 4 that thing is on in case you’re wondering.
I was shaking so much I could hardly get a good picture.
Clearly this can only mean one thing.
I must move.