Let me begin this story by saying that as a kid/teenager/young adult I had a major phobia regarding spiders. I couldn’t be in the same room with one without hollering for my mom to come and kill it. As a young preschool teacher, I had trouble reading children’s books with drawings of spiders. I’m better now, and have come to accept their existence on this planet, though I don’t like it. I’m a Spider Saver now instead of a Squisher, and at school I have a patented cup-and-card method of removal to the outdoors, where they can be good citizens and eat the really creepy bugs.
Let me also tell you that I have progressed so much in my acceptance that I can even concede that jumping spiders are cute. Go ahead, see for yourself.
Ok, but they’re not cute when a) I am told there is one near but don’t know exactly where it is and b) I am misled regarding its size.
A couple of days ago I came home and Lloyd told me about a spider.
Lloyd: “There’s a really cute jumping spider somewhere by your computer.”
Lloyd: “I don’t know. He was there a couple of minutes ago. I named him Elmo.”
I looked carefully but couldn’t find him. I was kind of wigged out the rest of the evening, but I survived.
Tonight, Lloyd was cleaning the counter and said, “Hey! It’s Elmo!”
I saw a tiny speck on the counter by his towel and grabbed my camera, setting it to macro to photograph this adorable little spider that I could barely see.
I got closer and Lloyd turned over the towel and showed me a freaking tarantula!!!
Ok, maybe it wasn’t that big, but it was at least a hundred times bigger than the speck of cookie crumb that deceived me.
I made Lloyd take Elmo outside to be a good citizen. Hope that robin doesn’t get him.