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I kicked the kids out for what was the first beautiful day in an otherwise snow covered year (so far).  My husband just built the girls a huge swing set, complete with a cute little clubhouse at the top, and they were already getting plenty of use out of it.

I believe I had started dinner.  And then came the screaming.  Not the my-sister-hit-me kind of a yell.  Not even a That’s-mine-stop-touching-it yell.

The kind of yell that makes your heart physically stop pumping blood to your arteries.  The kind of yell that says some strange man has breached our eight foot high fence and is now attempting to carry one of them off (or both).  The kind of scream that makes the neighbors call the cops, immediately, without asking questions.

I dropped whatever it was I had been doing and ran like a gazelle to the back door.  I threw it open, only to see both of my girls fleeing from the swing set and shaking in fear.

“What’s the matter?” I demanded.  “What happened?”

Maybe one of them had seen a horrible murder of our neighbor from the clubhouse at the top of the swing set.

On a separate note, maybe I need to turn off ID Discovery and the news occasionally.

They were both still hysterical.  Physically shaking.  Paige, now slightly bent to catch her breath since she had been running so fast, finally sputtered out, “Spider.  There’s a spider up there.”

Oh.  Dear.  God.

I'm sure this is what was close to happening to our swing set.

I’m sure this is what was close to happening to our swing set.

And just like that, I have passed on my irrational fear of spiders to my children.

I’d like to tell you I saved the day, and went over and killed the spider that literally had to be found with a microscope.  But who am I kidding?  That didn’t happen.

Instead I yelled, “Oh for God’s sake.  Just go OVER there.  It’s not like the thing is going to EAT you (I hope).  It’s just a little spider!”  *shudder*

They’re no braver than I am.  Instead, they hung out on the swing set intended for babies directly out of the birth canal.  I knew the moment of my husband’s arrival because I heard two squealing girls say, “Daddy!  Thank God you’re home!  We have a HUGE spider problem up in our clubhouse!”

“Oh for the love of all things holy!  Do you see what you’ve done, dear?”  he yelled at me through the window.

Hopefully there’s someone out there raising two young sons to be brave spider warriors, that will someday marry my girls and be their spider killers.  Otherwise my husband is going to have a tough time going back and forth between three houses.

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