Don't bug Mommy right now
There it was, smack in middle of our living room. For half a second, I thought of disposing the near-lifeless cockroach. But I HATE bugs and picking up one that is still alive? Ewwwwwwww. So I pretended it wasn't there and walked away. Call me a coward, call me irresponsible, I don't care. I wasn't picking up that thing.
From the back of the house, I heard a squeal, the thunder of two girls running to find me: "MOMMY!! There's .. (breath, breath) .. a HORRIBLE thing you have to see." Me: "Uh, what's that?" Seven-year-old: "A bug! He's alive! In the living room!"
So much for waiting for my husband to get home. I fessed up that Daddy could take care of it when he returned, to which 7-year-old said: "But Mom! It's only a bug, he can't hurt you. Come on." Me: "Then why don't you pick it up?" (Isn't she old enough to help out around the house? Picking up bugs would be a good start!) Total hysterics ensued. Two-year-old would not go down for her nap because the bug was still on the floor (just a few feet from her bedroom). Seven-year-old starts calling me out again and again. Just as I'm thinking, okay, be strong, you can do this, I'm saved: Daddy's home!!
P.S. Do you know how hard it is to even look at this photo?!?
- Amy Hollyfield